Classic Poem

That my Redeemer lives I know,
Though by his sentence just,
My body, for a season, low,
Shall dwell with fellow dust.

In him triumphant over death,
I'll trample on the grave;
For he that conquer'd hell and wrath,
Can dust and ashes save.

My living Head, when bankrupt time
Shall its last minute spend,
He then from heav'n his throne sublime
In triumph shall descend.

He on the surface of the earth
As Judge supreme shall stand;
And from the tomb to recent birth
His captive dust demand.

The mighty Conqueror shall invade
And sack the cruel grave,
Force every vault where bones were laid,
And rescue every slave.

Though worms and putrefaction shall
My mould'ring skin consume,
And eat my flesh; yet, at his call,
My body now shall bloom:

Reviv'd I from the dust shall rise,
And God my Saviour see,
With these my own corporeal eyes,
That shall immortal be.

I for myself, and for my gain,
Shall see the happy sight;
And over death for ever reign,
To share the vision bright.