And must this body die?
This mortal frame decay?
And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mould'ring in the clay?

Corruption, earth, and worms
Shall but refine this flesh
Till my triumphant spirit comes
To put it on afresh

God my Redeemer lives
And often from the skies
Looks down, and watches all my dust
Till He shall bid it rise

Arrayed in glorious grace
Shall these vile bodies shine
And every shape, and every face
Look heav'nly and divine

These lively hopеs we owe
To Jesus' dying lovе;
We would adore His grace below
And sing His power above

Dear Lord, accept the praise
Of these our humble songs
Till tunes of nobler sound we raise
With our immortal tongues