Jesus, of Thee we ne'er would tire;
The new and living food
Can satisfy our heart's desire,
And life is in Thy blood.
If such the happy midnight song
Our prisoned spirits raise,
What are the joys that cause, ere long,
Eternal bursts of praise?
To look within and see no stain,
Abroad no curse to trace;
To shed no tears, to feel no pain,
But see Thee face to face.
To find each hope of glory gained,
Fulfilled each precious word;
And fully all to have attained
The image of our Lord.
For this we're pressing onward still,
And in this hope would be
More subject to the Father's will,
E'en now much more like Thee.