Triumph Over Death

Verse 1

Great God, I own thy sentence just, And nature must decay; I yield my body to the dust, To dwell with fellow clay.

Verse 2

Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave, And trample on the tombs; My great Redeemer ever lives, My God, my Saviour, comes.

Verse 3

The mighty conqueror shall appear, High on a royal seat; And death, the last of all our foes, Lie vanquished at his feet.

Verse 4

Then shall I see thy lovely face With strong, immortal eyes, And feast upon thy wondrous grace With pleasure and surprise.