And Must This Body Die?

And must this body die?
This mortal frame decay?
And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mould'ring in the clay?

Corruption, earth, and worms
Shall but refine this flesh;
'Til my triumphant spirit comes
 To put it on afresh.

God my redeemer lives,
And often from the skies;
Looks down and watches all my dust,
'Til He shall bid it rise.

Arrayed in glorious grace,
Shall these vile bodies shine;
And ev'ry shape and ev'ry face,
Look heav'nly and divine.

~Isaac Watts~