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O, let us exalt our dear Lord and proclaim,
In songs of true gratitude, praise to His name!
As songs of the angels in sweetest accord,
Our thanks and our praises shall rise to the Lord.
-- Zion's Harp # 165

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Christ The Resurrected (Z. H. 183)

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Alternate Zion's Harp Numbers: 53, 80, 249

Rise, O soul and break the bondage
Of the vanities of life!
Journey onward to the kingdom;
Leave the turmoil and the strife!
In this world and time we see
Naught but endless vanity.

Turn your heart to the fair city,
To the peaceful Zion there.
Let no worldly hope deceive you;
Hasten now its joys to share.
Let naught lead you e'er astray,
As you walk the heav'nly way.

To the Saviour's grave now hasten,
Where He lay in calm repose.
Christ, in strength from God the Father,
From the grave in triumph rose.
Thus the path of life He made,
With His blood your ransom paid.

Jesus bore all our transgressions
With Him there upon the cross,
And for us endured the anguish,
As a meek lamb suffered loss;
There He won for me and thee
Life and joy eternally.

Death, the first, is now forever
Conquered and his might laid low,
For the Hero broke that scepter
When He to the grave did go.
Bonds are broken, dungeon's might;
Liberty is brought to light!

Now the very sting is taken
That gave second death its power;
Vanquished is the evil dragon
That so long did fiercely lower.
Now the serpent's poison may
No believer's heart dismay.

O, the lovely, glorious portal,
That o'er Jesus' grave I see:
"Jesus lives!" O words immortal,
Like a magnet drawing me!
"Jesus lives!" This, too, I see:
"Who believes shall live with Me!"

Thought of death does not appall me;
Jesus is my life and all.
I am now an heir of glory.
Though the mortal body fall
Into dust, again I'll rise
When He calls me from the skies.

Now with Job I say believing:
Jesus, my Redeemer lives!
New life I will be receiving
By the power that He gives;
He, the Strong, will me not leave,
Till He fin'lly breaks my grave.

As to Christ I cling forever,
He the Head, I, member true,
So He will forsake me never
Whatsoe'er I might pass through.
He, the First-fruit, goes ahead
That I may by Him be led.

Adam being dead within me,
Henceforth live Thou, Lord, in me.
What Thy sacred death did win me,
May it bring much fruit to Thee;
May the Spirit victor be
And the flesh succumb to Thee.

Thou of life the Prince and Giver,
For Thy death I now thank Thee!
Now my faith is fruitless never;
And my hope in death shall be
That in death I trust in Thee,
I shall not forsaken be!

O, how will the voice be ringing
That doth call us from the grave!
What sound will the trump be bringing,
Piercing every burial-cave:
"Come, ye dead," it loudly cries;
"Nothing hinders ye, arise!"

Thou the dust will then enliven;
All the bones new life will see;
A new form I will be given,
Then I shall immortal be;
And transfigured by Thy hand,
In Thy likeness I shall stand.

In my Saviour's resurrection
There is comfort; I am blest.
In His life my hopes renewing,
In His love my soul shall rest.
Everything I have in Thee,
Life and hope and victory.

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