And Must This Body Die?

And must this bo­dy die?

This mor­tal frame de­cay?

And must these ac­tive limbs of mine

Lie mol­der­ing in the clay?

Corruption

earth

and worms

Shall but re­fine this flesh

Till my tri­umph­ant spir­it comes

To put it on afresh.

God my Re­deem­er lives

And oft­en from the skies

Looks down

and watch­es all my dust

Till He shall bid it rise.

Arrayed in glo­ri­ous grace

Shall these vile bo­dies shine

And ev­ery shape

and ev­ery face

Look heav’n­ly and di­vine.

These live­ly hopes we owe

To Je­sus’ dy­ing love;

We would adore His grace be­low

And sing His pow­er ab­ove.

Dear Lord

ac­cept the praise

Of these our hum­ble songs

Till tunes of nob­ler sound we raise

With our im­mor­tal tongues.