Death, Where Now Hath Gone Thy Stinging?

Death, where now hath gone thy stinging?
Fled it at my Lord’s forth-springing!
Grave, hath hence thy vict’ry vanish’d?
Christ thy hellish host hath banish’d!
Though thou didst me once imprison,
Christ from out thy bonds is risen;
He me freeth from thy subjection
By His glorious resurrection!

Once my sin had quite enthrall’d me;
High within its gates I wall’d me.
It, the sting of death, had shown me
How the Law did quite disown me,
Yet the guilt that o’er me reigned
Could not stay His hand, Who deigned
On a wretch to show His pleasure:
Mercy great in greatest measure.

Christ, Thou, great High Priest in Heaven,
As my Paschal Lamb wast given;
Thou aton’d’st for my transgression
And now makest intercession
To Thy Father, Who doth know Thee
And hath plac’d all things below Thee:
He doth love Thee for Thy bleeding—
He shall rule as Thou art pleading.

Praise to Thee that deign’d to love me
Though Thy Law was quite above me;
Through Thy Christ Thou gain’d’st the vict’ry
And from death to life hast quick’d me;
Thou hast promis’d life immortal;
Now is death but Heaven’s portal.
Made was I to this end for Thee:
E’er to ceaselessly adore Thee.

—4/18/11? On 1 Cor 15:55-57. To “Schmücke Dich.”

A/N 11/25/25: It is rare to look back on my work from this period with complete approval. My doctrine, praxis, and skill have all grown so much since I began to write. And to be fair I do not look on this with complete approval. I was far more in love here with Jacobean English than readability or singability. Nevertheless, the last half of the third verse is such that I was briefly confused whether this was a translation or original work. To me, it reads like Winkworth.