The Powerful Word That Reared The Skies

1 The pow­er­ful Word that reared the skies,
Calls thro’ the world, "Ye dead, arise";
The op­en­ing graves that Word ob­ey,
And death and hell re­sign their prey.

2 Sinners with hor­ror and am­aze,
Feel wrath di­vine up­on them seize;
The saints with joy­ful looks ap­pear,
And forms and smiles ce­les­tial wear.

3 Grace in them now tri­um­phant reigns,
Freed from temp­ta­tions, sins, and pains,
As an­gels pure, as cher­ubs gay,
Dressed in im­mor­tal light as they.

4 O could I say Je­sus is mine,
Hope thus to rise, and thus to shine!
Death would no hor­rid as­pect have,
Nor dark­ness then be­gloom the grave.

5 In hopes of that il­lus­tri­ous day,
That pow­er and grace to change my clay;
Cheer­ful I’d lay me down to rest,
In that cold bed my Sav­ior blest.


Source: The Cyber Hymnal #16520

• MIDI file from The Cyber Hymnal #16520