1 And must this body die?
This mortal frame decay?
And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mould'ring in the clay?
2 God, my Redeemer lives,
And often, from the skies,
Looks down and watches all my dust,
Till He shall bid it rise.
3 Array'd in glorious grace
Shall these vile bodies shine,
And ev'ry shape, and ev'ry face,
Look heavenly and divine.
4 These lively hopes we owe
To Jesus' dying love;
We would adore His grace below,
And sing His power above.
5 Dear Lord, accept the praise
Of these our humble songs,
Till tunes of nobler sound we raise
With our immortal tongues.
|First Line:||And must this body die?|
|Topic:||Blessedness: future, anticipated; Christians: their life and experience; Death: anticipation of(4 more...)|
|Notes:||Author from index: Watts|