Classic Poem

Earth , with its dark and dreadful ills,
— Recedes, and fades away;
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly hills;
— Ye gates of death, give way!

My soul is full of whispered song,
— My blindness is my sight;
The shadows that I feared so long
— Are all alive with light.

The while my pulses faintly beat,
— My faith doth so abound,
I feel grow firm beneath my feet
— The green immortal ground.

That faith to me a courage gives
— Low as the grave, to go:
I know that my Redeemer lives:
— That I shall live, I know.

The palace walls I almost see,
— Where dwells my Lord and King;
O grave, where is thy victory!
— O death, where is thy sting!