T HYATIRA Tune .

O Death, where is thy cruel sting
Which us'd to wound my heart?
Since I beheld my dying King
I've lost that venom'd smart.

The King of grace and glory dy'd,
And dy'd to ransom me;
Thy pow'r to kill he then defy'd,
And gain'd the victory.

I can survey the gloomy grave,
And no dark horrors feel,
Since Christ descended there to save
His saints from death and hell.

O grave, where is thy victory!
What conquest hast thou made,
Since my Redeemer conquer'd thee,
And thou was't captive led?

That ransom'd soul hast thou detain'd
From its eternal rest,
Since Christ the victory obtain'd,
And thy dominion ceas'd?

While I can boast of Jesus slain
I'll triumph over thee;
Shall not in thy pow'r remain
When thou art sent for me.