1 And must this body die? This mortal frame decay? And must these active limbs of mine Lie mouldering in the clay?
2 Corruption, earth and worms, Shall but refine this flesh, Till my triumphant spirit comes To put it on afresh.
3 God my Redeemer lives, And often from the skies Looks down, and watches all my dust, Till he shall bid it rise.
4 Array'd in glorious grace Shall these vile bodies shine, And every shape and every face Look heavenly and divine.
5 These lively hopes we owe To Jesus' dying love; We would adore his grace below, And sing his power above.
6 Dear Lord, accept the praise Of these our humble songs, Till tunes of nobler sound we raise With our immortal tongues.