The Death of Death
Hanging on the tree,
Breathing his last breaths,
He cried out to His Father,
“Must I suffer this cruel death?
Yet let Thy will, not mine, be done,
And while I still do breath,
Oh please remember Thine only son,
And give Me strength Thee to please.”
Great drops of blood stood on His brow,
Great nails pierced hands and feet.
A jeering mob looked on below,
and He went on, His father soon to meet.
Yet love and mercy filled His heart,
“Father, forgive them I plea,”
He chose to save them, in His love,
“Father, I give My spirit to Thee.”
Now heart diminishes its beat,
But death has died, not He,
Death has been defeated now,
He died for sinners we.
Loving Father, accept my praise,
For You have saved us all.
Death has taken its last toll,
The cross its bitter gall.