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To triumph o'er the monster, Death,
And all his frightful powers!

2 Joyful with all the strength I have,
My quivering lips should sing,
"Where is thy boasted victory, grave,
And where the monster's sting?"

3 If sin be pardoned, I'm secure;
Death has no sting beside;

The law gives sin its damning power;
But Christ, my ransom, died.

4 Now to the God of victory

Immortal thanks be paid,

Who makes us conquerors while we die,
Through Christ our living head.

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Christian Submission

1 O LORD, I would delight in thee,
And on thy care depend;

To thee in every trouble flee,
My best, my only friend.

2 When all created streams are dried,

Thy fulness is the same;

May I with this be satisfied,
And glory in thy name.

3 Why should the soul a drop bemoan, Who has a fountain near,

A fountain which shall ever run,
With waters sweet and clear?

4 No good in creatures can be found
But may be found in thee:

I must have all things, and abound,
While God is God to me.

5 0! that I had a stronger faith
To look within the veil,

To credit what my Saviour saith,
Whose word can never fail.

6 He who has made my heaven secure,
Will here all good provide:
While Christ is rich can I be poor?
What can I want beside?

7 O Lord, I cast my care on thee,
I triumph and adore;

Henceforth my great concern shall be,
To love and praise thee more.

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1 SUBMISSIVE to thy will, my God,

I all to thee resign,

And bow before thy chastening rod;
I mourn but not repine.

2 Why should my foolish heart complain,
When wisdom, truth, and love
Direct the stroke, inflict the pain,
And point to joys above?

3 How short are all my sufferings here,
How needful every cross!
Away, my unbelieving fear,

Nor call my gain my loss.

4 Then give, dear Lord, or take away
I'll bless thy sacred name;
My Jesus, yesterday, to-day,
For ever is the same!

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Casting our Care on the Lord.

1 WHEN struggling on the bed of pain, And earth and all its joys are vain,

How sweet, my God, to know thy power
Sustains me in this trying hour!

2 How rich and precious sounds that love, That tells of rest and joys above,

And lulls my troubled heart to rest,
Upon my blessed Saviour's breast.

3 There, still while life's warm currents rush,
My soul would all her sorrows hush,
Nor ever yield to dark despair,

For light and life and peace are there.

4 Helper and Hope thou ever art,

To heal the wounded, broken heart;
O! let me hear thy pardoning voice,
And bid my broken bones rejoice.

5 Then shall my cheerful, grateful tongue
In rapturous strains thy praise prolong;
My ransomed soul adore thy grace,
And swifter run the heavenly race.

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