“Thy arm, Lord, is not shortened now,
It wants not now the power to save;
Still present with Thy people, Thou
Bear’st them through life’s disparted wave.
“By death and hell pursued in vain,
To Thee the ransomed seed shall come,
Shouting their heavenly Sion gain,
And pass through death triumphant home.
“The pain of life shall there be o’er,
The anguish and distracting care,