"In Death" by Wesley Tyler Robinson

In death when all Thy Saints depart,
To rest down by Thy side;
They are freed from all wickedness,
All sin, guilt, and pride.

When all Thy precious sheep lie down,
Thine hands shalt dearly hold them;
They wilt behold the precious crown,
The one of thorns bore for them.

Glorified before Thy throne,
We wilt stand in honor;
And adore Thy precious Son,
Whom will not let us wander.

"O' The Bitter Cup Of Wrath" by Wesley Tyler Robinson

O' the bitter whip and lash,
That tore through His very flesh;
Church, He hath done this for thee!
That thou may be at rest!

O' how sweet that crown of thorns,
Pressed on the Savior's head;
How He bore our iniquities,
And rescued us from death!

O' the nails put through His hands,
Pierced for our transgression;
That we may be with Him at last,
On earth and in Heav'n!

O' the pain, His dying breath,
Crying, 'it is finished!'
But then He was raised from the dead,
And His Kingdom wilt not diminish!