If our hope in Christ is for this life alone, we are to be pitied more than all people.
~ 1 Corinthians 15:19
Though the body that is sown (buried after death) is perishable; what is raised (resurrected) is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body.
~ 1 Corinthians 15:42-44
When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.”
“O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?”
~ 1 Corinthians 15:54,55
THE BEGINNING OF LIFE
Death is but the beginning of life,
Richer and fuller than what we've known,
When now feeble senses are heightened,
And the dull fog over our minds lifted-
To reveal what is yet unknown.
Death is but the tearing of a veil,
Hanging delicately between two worlds,
Shimmering in it's sheer transparence,
Flimsy and fragile, yet stubbornly steadfast-
Until it splinters into a thousand pieces.
And the dim reflection we see as on a mirror,
Manifesting mere shadows of reality,
Shatters to let us see the true brilliance
Of life in all its fullness and abundance-
Of freedom of spirit and its vitality!
Death is the end of dying and decay,
The ceasing of time's great, mighty strides,
And all that feeds upon and devours life,
For from birth, in measures we wither and fade-
As childhood dims into youth and age.
But in this perishing body given to corruption,
Is a secret resting amidst it's degeneration-
The mystery of immortality, power and glory!
Like a seed buried in this frame of dust-
Bursting with the promise of what is yet to be.
The Spirit of God who raised Jesus from death,
Is the life-giving seed that dwells within me,
And transforms this body in the twinkling of an eye,
From weakness to an exceeding weight of glory-
As is the Man of heaven, so shall my image be!
In death I wake as from a long, riveting dream,
To find that true life is waiting for me,
Where time stands eagerly, immutably still,
To welcome me back from my wanderings,
Upon earth's lonesome vales and hills.
What is death, but a welcome destruction,
Of the failings and frailty of my flesh,
So that what I truly am may be revealed-
Soul and spirit, in triumph gloriously freed,
When all that I am not stands abolished.
And the infinite Spirit who guards death's gate,
Holds triumphantly, the keys of death and Hades-
Yes, Christ, Who conquered and smote the grave;
To meet each precious child He tenderly awaits,
With the deepest love and joy upon His face.
On the wings of His gentle sanctuary and grace,
Shall each soul be borne away to heaven's embrace;
Will you fear to die, when met by such a love as this-
And see the anguish in the suffering Servant's eyes,
Smolder and fade into the shining light of life!
Richer and fuller than what we've known,
When now feeble senses are heightened,
And the dull fog over our minds lifted-
To reveal what is yet unknown.
Death is but the tearing of a veil,
Hanging delicately between two worlds,
Shimmering in it's sheer transparence,
Flimsy and fragile, yet stubbornly steadfast-
Until it splinters into a thousand pieces.
And the dim reflection we see as on a mirror,
Manifesting mere shadows of reality,
Shatters to let us see the true brilliance
Of life in all its fullness and abundance-
Of freedom of spirit and its vitality!
Death is the end of dying and decay,
The ceasing of time's great, mighty strides,
And all that feeds upon and devours life,
For from birth, in measures we wither and fade-
As childhood dims into youth and age.
But in this perishing body given to corruption,
Is a secret resting amidst it's degeneration-
The mystery of immortality, power and glory!
Like a seed buried in this frame of dust-
Bursting with the promise of what is yet to be.
The Spirit of God who raised Jesus from death,
Is the life-giving seed that dwells within me,
And transforms this body in the twinkling of an eye,
From weakness to an exceeding weight of glory-
As is the Man of heaven, so shall my image be!
In death I wake as from a long, riveting dream,
To find that true life is waiting for me,
Where time stands eagerly, immutably still,
To welcome me back from my wanderings,
Upon earth's lonesome vales and hills.
What is death, but a welcome destruction,
Of the failings and frailty of my flesh,
So that what I truly am may be revealed-
Soul and spirit, in triumph gloriously freed,
When all that I am not stands abolished.
And the infinite Spirit who guards death's gate,
Holds triumphantly, the keys of death and Hades-
Yes, Christ, Who conquered and smote the grave;
To meet each precious child He tenderly awaits,
With the deepest love and joy upon His face.
On the wings of His gentle sanctuary and grace,
Shall each soul be borne away to heaven's embrace;
Will you fear to die, when met by such a love as this-
And see the anguish in the suffering Servant's eyes,
Smolder and fade into the shining light of life!
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