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Hymn 6

 Triumph over death.
Job 19:25-27.
Great God, I own thy sentence just, And nature must decay; I yield my body to the dust, To dwell with fellow clay.
Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave, And trample on the tombs My Jesus, my Redeemer, lives; My God, my Savior, comes.
The mighty Conqueror shall appear High on a royal seat, And death, the last of all his foes, Lie vanquished at his feet.
Though greedy worms devour my skin, And gnaw my wasting flesh, When God shall build my bones again, He clothes them all afresh.
Then shall I see thy lovely face With strong immortal eyes; And feast upon thy unknown grace With pleasure and surprise.

Poem by Isaac Watts
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