By Mrs. Ida M. Roberts


I once did view with dread,

The horrors of the tomb;

But now I see for the righteous dead,

The grave has lost its gloom.


Death is a conquered foe,

Then let him do his worst;

Although he lay this body low,

His fetters I shall burst.


And come forth from the grave

At my Redeemer's call,

Example of his power to save

A victor over all.


A wondrous beauty too,

This figure then shall wear,

For when my Lord appears in view,

His image I shall bear.


My robes shall glistening shine

Far whiter than the snow,

My soul and body all divine,

No trace of weakness known.


As I have borne below,

The withering marks of earth;

My glorious presence then shall show,

A form of heavenly birth.


Crowned with immortality,

I then can ever sing;

O grave where is thy victory

O death where is thy sting.


Source:  Crittenden Record-Press. (Marion, Ky.), March 20, 1913, Image 3 - Chronicling America - The Library of Congress.