We will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.
1 Corinthians 15:51–52
Words: Daniel Turner, Divine Songs, Hymns and Other Poems (London & Reading, England: A. Ward & S. Blackman, 1747), pages 6–7, alt.
Music: Wareham William Knapp, 1738 (🔊 pdf nwc).
Alternate Tunes:
If you know where to get a good picture of Turner (head & shoulders, at least 200×300 pixels), or a better one of Knapp,

The powerful Word that reared the skies,
Calls thro’ the world, Ye dead, arise
;
The opening graves that Word obey,
And death and hell resign their prey.
Sinners with horror and amaze,
Feel wrath divine upon them seize;
The saints with joyful looks appear,
And forms and smiles celestial wear.
Grace in them now triumphant reigns,
Freed from temptations, sins, and pains,
As angels pure, as cherubs gay,
Dressed in immortal light as they.
O could I say Jesus is mine,
Hope thus to rise, and thus to shine!
Death would no horrid aspect have,
Nor darkness then begloom the grave.
In hopes of that illustrious day,
That power and grace to change my clay;
Cheerful I’d lay me down to rest,
In that cold bed my Savior blest.