O, death, though still an enemy,
Thou art a conquered foe.
Through thee has Satan lost the power
He wielded long ago.

For in my risen Lord I see
Death cannot hold Christ's own;
He burst my bonds, and set me free,
He hushed my fevered groan.

Thou art my servant now, to ope'
Heaven's door, and break my chain;
Thou'rt conquered by the blessed hope
That Christ will come again.

I've stepped across the yawning grave,
It has no fear for me;
I hold the hope my Saviour gave,
He's coming presently.

So Death, thou hast no victory,
Thy sting I do not dread;
My risen Lord has rescued me,
I'm risen from the dead.

Thy resurrection power, O Lord,
By faith has lifted me
Beyond Death's thrall, and Thine own Word
Gives me this certainty:

That I might know Thee, blessed Lord,
In resurrection power,
And fellowship Thy sufferings,
In that unequaled hour.

Oh, make me then conformable
Unto Thy death, I pray,
That Thy blest resurrection power
May hold me 'neath its sway.

H. McD