O Death, Where Is Thy Sting?

O death where is thy sting?

Where

grave

thy vic­to­ry?

O keys of hell

why change

Ye hands at Cal­va­ry?

Lo

on that hill

God’s wrath was placed

Our sins erased

And death made nil.

O sin­ner

set thy faith

On Him who bore thy curse;

The ve­nom of that sting

Abideth on the earth.

But Christ arose

To be our way

And sole es­cape

From sin’s grim woe.

O saint

turn not be­hind—

Reach forth to things ahead;

Thy faith has made thee whole

And raised thee from the dead

To be as one

With what awaits

Past Heav­en’s gate

When ends have come.

O Lord

for Thee we watch

Unto that bless­èd day

When what­e’er form we take

Shall see Thee face to face;

For Thy great pow’r

Will re­sur­rect

All Thine elect;

O won­drous hour!