Who'll bring the dead to life,
	The grave's dark prison burst?
Why, He that on the dead
	Conferred their life at first.

'Tis strange that fleeting souls
	Again to-day should wake,
But no less strange that here
	They once their sojourn make.

Behold the human form
	With strength and skill bedight,
Endowed with mind and will,
	With hearing, speech and sight.

'Tis God's o'erruling power
	Has caused with wondrous care
These mortal frames to grow
	Of water, earth and air.

Then cannot God preserve
	Alive the soul He gave,
And bear it safely through
	The crisis of the grave?

Oh, yes, our spirits draw
	Their essence from on high,
Of heavenly nature wrought,
	Too noble e'er to die.