Jesus, my spirit fain would soar
High—higher, and evermore
Rest,—rest my God on thee.
Yea, gladly would I flee away,
This vale is dark, and I would stay
Nigh Thee, my God; and gaze for aye—
Gaze—gaze, my Lord, on Thee.
E’en as my fettered spirit scales,
The garnished wall of glory vails
Thy face, my Lord, from me;
Yet when with faith’s transpiercing sight,
I catch a glimpse of glory bright;
Then ravished in the heavenly light,
I seek, my Lord, for Thee.
‘Tis not enough to charm the eye,
E’en there, my longing soul would cry,
“Jesus” my Lord, for Thee.
The’ I should rest on seas of glass.
The harps, and crowns of gold, I’d pass,
Knowing thyself must all surpass,
Jesus—I would see Thee.
And now my constant rest would be
This “little while” in serving Thee,
Watching, my Lord, for Thee.
Whilst in Thy footprints hard I press,
Spotless I’d keep my glorious dress,
Jesus, my Lord, my Righteousness,
Whiter I’ll shine near Thee.
Come quickly, Oh come quickly here,
Thy saints’ expecting souls to cheer,
Jesus by meeting Thee.
Our Bridegroom Thou, oh, wondrous sight;
Our God, our Life, our Rest, our Light,
Our Morning Star—our day-spring bright,
Jesus, we wait with Thee.
A.C.T.