S. M. Bowring. O Death, Where is Thy Sting? |
1 Where is thy sting, O death? Grave! where thy victory? The clod may sleep in dust beneath, The spirit will be free! 2 Both man and time have power O'er suffering, dying men; But death arrives, and in that hour The soul is freed again. 3 Then, death, where is thy sting? And where thy victory, grave? O'er your dark bourn the soul will spring To Him who loves to save.
|
|