Listen! Here is a mystery.
For flesh and blood cannot discern;
God’s plan will reign in history.
His trumpet blasts our last sojourn.
The Son of Man rides on the clouds
Like lightning from the east to west.
Archangel’s voice shall cry aloud
And gather those into Christ’s breast.
Imperishable you shall rise,
Like light, at sunrise, night sets free.
Immortal as the Kingdom’s sky,
You’ll walk across a crystal sea.
The grave will feast as bodies sleep
From skin to bones under earth’s crust.
But who, O Death, who can you reap?
For you, O Death, are made of dust.
The “sting of death” is but a lie.
The first Adam gave us the key
To lose bondage and let fear die:
For He gave us the victory!