1 AND let this feeble body fail,
And let it droop and die;
My soul shall quit the mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high;
Shall join the disembodied saints,
And find its long-sought rest,
(That only bliss for which it pants)
In my Redeemer's breast.
2 In hope of that immortal crown,
I now the cross sustain,
And gladly wander up and down,
And smile at toil and pain:
I suffer out my threescore years,
Till my Deliverer come,
And wipe away his servant's tears,
And take his exile home.
3 Surely he will not long delay:
I hear his Spirit cry,
"Arise, my love, make haste away!
Go, get thee up, and die.
O'er death, who now has lost his sting,
I give thee victory;
And with me my reward I bring,
I bring my heaven for thee."
4 O what hath Jesus bought for me!
Before my ravished eyes
Givers of life divine I see,
And trees of paradise;
They flourish in perpetual bloom,
Fruit every month they give;
And to the healing leaves who come
Eternally shall live.
5 I see a world of spirits bright
Who reap the pleasures there;
They all are robed in purest white,
And conquering palms they bear:
Adorned by their Redeemer's grace,
They close pursue the Lamb;
And every shining front displays
The unutterable name.
6 They drink the vivifying stream,
They pluck the ambrosial fruit,
And each records the praise of him
Who tuned his golden lute:
At once they strike the harmonious wire,
And hymn the great Three-One:
He hears; he smiles; and all the choir
Fall down before his throne.
7 O what are all my sufferings here,
If, Lord, thou count me meet
With that enraptured host to appear,
And worship at thy feet!
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away:
I come, to find them all again
In that eternal day.