'It doth not yet appear what we shall be."-1 John 3:2.

And must this body die-
This well-wrought frame decay ?
And must these active limbs of mine
Lie moldering in the clay ?

Corruption, earth, and worms,
Shall but refine this flesh,'
Till my triumphant spirit comes
To put it on afresh.

God my Redeemer lives,
And ever from the skies
Looks down, and watches all my dust
Till He shall bid it rise.

Arrayed in glorious grace
Shall these vile bodies shine,
And every shape and every face,
Be heavenly and divine.

These lively hopes we owe,
Lord, to Thy dying love.
Oh, may we bless Thy grace below,
And sing Thy grace above !

Saviour, accept the praise
Of these our humble songs,
Till tunes of nobler sounds we raise
With our immortal tongues. Watts.