Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? For the Lord Jesus has broken your fangs. You are left only with venom that has no power. Christ has taken your keys; to Him belongs eternal possession. You caused me to weep, but my tears were collected in a bottle. You placed sorrowful slippers at my doorstep. Even Chemical Equilibrium was a witness— I was reading. You fed me a sour grape. Did you expect me to show my 28 teeth? I was not an adult yet. Do not question me. I am left with dreams and memories that live in the small room close to where Christ dwells in my heart. Yet you have failed. I have a Great Dad— Dad to all daddies. How could this be possible? Sit back and visualize. When my childhood daydreams forsook me, I was not forsaken. I took a trip to the wonderland of God’s faithfulness. And guess who took me there? Do not wander too far— He has your keys. Christ swung with me The Jangolova of God's mercies. I knew no tremble Drop after drop, tick after tick, the Great Dad did the impossible: He brought me out of shame. I am clothed with His glory. First became last, last became first. Tables turned. Those who mocked now marvel at the wonders. “How quick?” they ask. A short and simple answer: I have a Great Dad. For my Heavenly Father gave me what cannot be handed to me as a right, but only as a gift: VICTORY. I stand on a firm foundation. My eyes hear the word of the Lord, Weep no more, my heart, Sorrow no more. For blessed are those who mourn— they shall be comforted. Death, where is your sting?