1. What voice salutes the startled ear
And wakes the stricken heart,
Yet seems to chide each childish fear,
And life again impart?
Is it an echo of the past,
To which we silent cling?
“O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?”
2. This doth not spring from earthly soil
Nor from its wisdom grow;
’Tis not evoked by student’s toil,
Though years hath crowned with snow.
No! rich experience bids this swell,
Divine its precious ring—
“O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?”
3. Here, where the open bier sustains
The friend just passed away,
We know that glad relief obtains
From its encumbering clay.
While by the ready grave we stand,
Exulting faith we bring—
“O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?”
4. And so we thank thee, Father, God;
Thy voice will raise the dead,
E’en though a thorny path they trod
Or were by Calvary led;
’Twas there thy Son, our Savior, went,
And man by this can sing:
“O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O grave, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?”