"The first-begotten from the dead,"
Lo! Jesus ris'n, His people's Head,
To make their life secure:
Though they like Him may yield their breath,
Like Him, they'll burst the bands of death;
Their resurrection sure.

Why should His people now be sad?
None have such reason to be glad,
As reconcil'd to Ail:
Jesus, the mighty Saviour, lives:
To them eternal life He gives --
The purchase of His blood.

Ye chosen, let your praise resound,
And in your Master's work abound,
Steadfast, immovable:
Be sure your labour's not in vain:
Ye too from death shall rise again,
No more corruptible.

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