Hymn sung at the universal meeting house in Boston, Easter Sunday, April 4, 1790

Jesus, all hail! Thou risen Saviour, hail! At thy command the seventh trump shall sound— The sun retire— the moon, the stars turn pale, And heav'n, and earth, and sea no more be found. Rous'd at thy word, the slumb'ring nations rise: The dead, who live not till the trump be blown, Lift up to thee their supplicating eyes: And they, who pierc'd thee, weep at Mercy's throne. On all their sins the cleansing fountain rolls— Their robes are wash'd in thine all-saving blood: The fount of life supplies their thirsty souls, And ev'ry nation drinks the living flood. Bath'd in the crimson stream of life divine, With tears of joy, in extacy they cry: "The east, the west, the south, the north, are thine, "From everlasting, thine, we shall not die." "All souls are mine: all live to GOD in me, "The first the last, the last the first proclaim; "Jew, Centile, Greek, Barbarian, bond or free, "Are one new man: and bear Immanuel's name.'