Soon shall the trump of God Give out the welcome sound, That shakes death's silent chamber walls, And breaks the turf-sealed ground. You dwellers in the dust, Awake, come forth, and sing; Sharp has your frost of winter been, But bright shall be your spring. 'Twas sown in weakness here; 'Twill then be raised in power; That which was sown an earthly seed Shall rise a heav'nly flower.
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