Death, where is your sting?

They called it heroism
We call it terrorism
As they perceive strength, we see it as weak
While they rejoice in our brokeness
We feel tears spill down blistered cheeks

Where they have struck with blinded courage
We endure futile attempts to amputate
The legs of pride on which we stand
Through pain we will amalgamate
We unite for the harvest of our land

As a people matured, with freedom in plenty
By God’s grace we will not fall
“O Death,” we cry, “where is your sting?”
“O Hades, where is your victory?”
They’ve stolen some but have not all
Though humbly struck, we remain tall