Arise, My Gracious God

Arise

my gra­cious God

And make the wick­ed flee;

They are but Thy chas­tis­ing rod

To drive Thy saints to Thee.

Behold

the sin­ner dies

His haugh­ty words are vain;

Here in this life his plea­sure lies

And all be­yond is pain.

Then let his pride ad­vance

And boast of all his store;

The Lord is my in­her­it­ance

My soul can wish no more.

I shall be­hold the face

Of my for­giv­ing God;

And stand com­plete in right­eous­ness

Washed in my Sav­ior’s blood.

There’s a new heav’n be­gun

When I awake from death

Dressed in the like­ness of Thy Son

And draw im­mor­tal breath.