C.M.
1
Can it incredible appear
That God should raise the dead,
When tokens of His power so clear
Are all around us spread?
2
Cast in the earth, the seed-corn lies,
Till o’er the fertile field,
God from corruption makes it rise,
Our daily bread to yield.
3
When harvest brings the ripened grain,
Our eyes with joy behold
That scattered seed, restored again,
Increased a hundredfold.
4
The leaves in autumn fade and fall,
The trees look dead and dry;
But spring returns, reviving all,
Fresh verdure meets the eye.
5
The caterpillar eats its fill,
Then, sickening, seems to die;
Concealed, as in its coffin, till
God gives it wings to fly.
6
So our frail bodies will decay,
And low in dust remain;
But there will surely come a day
When they shall rise again.
7
A change most glorious that will be,
If we in Christ are found;
Made like the Saviour, we shall see
Him with His saints around.
