Death has no dominion o'er You,
Christ, our ris'n, immortal Head!
Mournful dirges cease before You,
Who restored the widow's dead.
Your touch cleanses imperfection;
Your Word puts Your will to action,
Even that the dead should live:
Such hope, Lord, to us now give!
Fear seized all who saw this wonder;
Word about You spread abroad:
Bonds of death were burst asunder
Through the presence of our God!
Let Your touch still cleanse our sickness;
Let Your word still move with quickness,
Calling dead hearts to belief,
Lightening our restless grief.
Death has no dominion o'er us,
For in You our life is hid
Since You, slain and risen for us,
Of its shade our vale has rid.
In the sacraments You touch us;
Your words with conviction clutch us,
Knowing we may safely die
Since our Easter morn is nigh.
No comments:
Post a Comment