My cheerful soul now all the day
Sits waiting here and sings;
Looks thro’ the ruins of her clay,
And practices her wings.
Faith almost changes into sight,
While from afar she spies
Her fair inheritance in light,
Above created skies.
Had but the prison walls been strong,
And firm without a flaw,
In darkness she had dwelt too long,
And less of glory saw.
But now the everlasting hills
Through every chink appear;
And something of the joy she feels,
While she’s a prisoner here.
Some rays from heaven break sweetly in
At all the opening flaws;
Visions of endless bliss are seen,
And native air she draws.
Watts’s Lyrics.