Death in His Grave
(cover of John Mark McMillan)
Though the earth cried out for blood
Satisfied her hunger was
Billows calmed on raging seas
For the souls of men she craved
Sun and moon on balcony
Turned their head in disbelief
Their precious love would taste the sting
Disfigured and disdained
On Friday a thief
On Sunday a king
Laid down in grief
But woke with the keys
To hell on that day
First born of the slain
The man Jesus Christ laid
Death in his grave
So three days in darkness slept
The morning sun of righteousness
But rose to shame the throws of death
And overturn his rule
Now daughters and the sons of men
Would not pay their dues again
The debt of blood they owed was rent
When the day rolled anew
On Friday a thief
On Sunday a king
Laid down in grief
But woke with the keys
To hell on that day
First born of the slain
The man Jesus Christ laid
Death in his grave
He has cheated hell
And seated us above the fall
In desperate places he paid our wages
One time once and for all
On Friday a thief
On Sunday a king
Laid down in grief
But woke with the keys
To hell on that day
First born of the slain
The man Jesus Christ laid
Death in his grave