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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 ;
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.
And on thy care depend;
% When all created streams are dried,
Thy fulness is the same;
And glory in thy name.
3 Why should the soul a drop bemoan,
Who has a fountain near,
With waters sweet and clear?
4 No good in creatures can be found
But may be found in thee:
While God is God to me.
5 O! that I had a stronger faith
To look within the veil,
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 ?
I triumph and adore ;
I all to thee resign,
I mourn but not repine.
2 Why should my foolish heart complain,
When wisdom, truth, and love
And point to joys above ? 3 How short are all my sufferings here,
How needful every cross !
Nor call my gain my loss.
4 Then give, dear Lord, or take away
I'll bless thy sacred name;
For ever is the same!
Casting our Care on the Lord. 1 Waen 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,
3 There, still while life's warm currents rush,
4 Helper and Hope thou ever art,
To heal the wounded, broken heart; 0! 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;