1 O for an overcoming faith,
To cheer my dying hours,
To triumph o’er the monster, Death,
And all his frightful powers.

2 Joyful with all the strength I have
My quivering lips should sing,
“Where is thy boasted victory, Grave?
And where’s the monster’s sting?”

3 If sin be pardoned, I’m secure;
Death has no sting beside;
The law gives sin its damning power,
But Christ, my ransom, died.

4 Now to the God of victory
Immortal thanks be paid,
Who makes us conquerors, though we die,
Through Christ our living Head.