When the trumpet shall sound
And the dead shall arise
And the splendors immortal
Shall envelop the skies;
When the Angel of Death
Shall no longer destroy
And the dead shall awaken
In the morning of joy:
In the morning of joy
We’ll be gathered to glory
In the morning of joy;
In the morning of joy.
When the King shall appear
In His beauty on high
And shall summon His children
To the courts of the sky;
Shall the cause of the Lord
Have been all your employ
That your soul may be spotless
In the morning of joy?
O the bliss of that morn
When our loved ones we meet!
With the songs of the ransomed
We each other shall greet
Singing praise to the Lamb
Thro’ eternity’s years
With the past all forgotten
With its sorrows and tears.
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