By A Collection of Hymns

      L.M. Isaiah li. 9.
      1 Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!
      Thine own immortal strength put on!
      With terror clothed, hell's kingdom shake,
      And cast thy foes with fury down!

      2 As in the ancient days appear!
      The sacred annals speak thy fame:
      Be now omnipotently near,
      To endless ages still the same.

      3 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.

      4 By death and hell pursued in vain,
      To thee the ransomed seed shall come,
      Shouting their heavenly Zion gain,
      And pass through death triumphant home.

      5 The pain of life shall there be o'er,
      The anguish and distracting care,
      There sighing grief shall weep no more,
      And sin shall never enter there.

      6 Where pure, essential joy is found,
      The Lord's redeemed their heads shall raise,
      With everlasting gladness crowned,
      And filled with love, and lost in praise.