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.