When the trumpet's sound shall wake
All the tenants of the tomb,
Men with terror then shall quake,
But the righteous hopeful rise
To secure the promised prize.

Severed from the just that day,
Sinners crying in their woe
Pass to chastisement for aye,
Trembling 'neath the awful rod,
Of the stern decree of God.

Lord of glory, by Thy grace
Come in pity to our aid;
Make us worthy of a place
With the just who dwell with Thee
In Thy bliss, eternally.