LXXXIX. GOD'S quickening the Dead.

THE Ever-living GOD
Th' expiring Church shall raise;
Our Hearts his Promises receive,
And wake a Shout of Praise.

Death shall not always reign,
Where Grace hath fix'd its Throne;
His soft Compassion views the Dust,
He once hath call'd his own.

"Yes," saith the GOD of Truth,
"My Dead shall live again;
"The Foe shall see their Leader's Breath
"Reanimate the Slain.

"The Dew of Heaven shall fall
"In rich Abundance round,
"And a redundant Harvest rise
"To cloath the teeming Ground.

"Now from your Dust awake,
"And burst into a Song;
"Then spurn the Earth, and mount the Skies
"In a triumphant Throng."

Thy Zion, LORD, believes
A Promise so divine,
And looks thro' all her flowing Tears
To see the Glory shine.