O death, where [is] thy sting? O grave, where thy victory? 1 Corinthians 15:55
Words: Isaac Watts, Horæ Lyricæ, second edition, 1709.
He dies! the friend of sinners dies!
Lo! Salem’s daughters weep around;
A solemn darkness veils the skies,
A sudden trembling shakes the ground.
Come, saints, and drop a tear or two
For Him who groaned beneath your load:
He shed a thousand drops for you,
A thousand drops of richer blood.
Here’s love and grief beyond degree:
The Lord of Glory dies for men!
But lo! what sudden joys we see,
Jesus, the dead, revives again!
The rising God forsakes the tomb;
The tomb in vain forbids His rise;
Cherubic legions guard Him home,
And shout Him welcome to the skies.
Break off your fears, ye saints, and tell
How high your great deliv’rer reigns;
Sing how He spoiled the hosts of hell,
And led the monster death in chains!
Live forever, wondrous King!
Born to redeem, and strong to save;
Then ask the monster,
Where’s thy sting?
Where’s thy victory, boasting grave?