Looking to Jesus in Death. Ps. 23. 4; Tit. 2. 13, 14

J. Swain                    C.M.

Why should we shrink at Jordan’s flood,
Or dread the unknown way?
See, yonder rolls a stream of blood,
That bears the curse away.

Death lost his sting when Jesus bled;
When Jesus left the ground,
Disarmed, the King of terrors fled,
And felt a mortal wound.

And now his office is to wait
Between the saints and sin;
A porter at the heavenly gate,
To let the pilgrims in.

And though his pale and ghastly face
May seem to frown the while;
We soon shall see the King of grace,
And he’ll for ever smile.