Great God, we own Thy sentence just;
Our natures must decay;
We must, Alas, return to dust,
And dwell with fellow clay.
Yet faith shall look beyond the grave,
And gild the cloud with hope;
Jesus Thy Son has come to save,
With death's fell power to cope.
Tho greedy worms devour my skin,
And gnaw my wasting flesh,
God shall restore my frame again,
And cloth it all afresh.
Then shall I see His lovely face,
With strong immortal eyes;
And feast upon His boundless grace,
With joy that never dies.