My pilgrim days are waning;
The voice of Him I love
Has called me to His presence
In my Father's house above.
Long, long, by faith I've known Him,
But now I'm going to see
The Man who sits in heaven,
The Man who died for me.
To be alone with Jesus,
Himself to gaze upon,
To see the Man I've read about
Oft in the eighth of John;
To leave this scene of sadness;
Oh, wondrous! Lord, to see
The glory of Thy presence-
The Man who died for me.
I'm going to be with Jesus
Who in this world of pain
Gave back the widow's only son,
Outside the gate of Nain.
His heart was moved with pity,
His word caused death to flee.
I'm going to see Him as He is,
The Man who died for me.
To leave the world that cast Him out,
And to be with Him there,
Before the kingdom glories
Or the "many crowns" appear;
O blessed Man of Sychar!
It is Himself to see,
He calls me to His presence,—
The Man who died for me.
It is the Man Christ Jesus
With whom I'm going to dwell;
The weary Man of Sychar,
Who sat upon the well;
Whose love filled that poor woman's heart
And gave her eyes to see
That He was God's anointed One,—
The Man who died for me.
But ere I left the desert,
I longed that I might know
What joy His blessed presence
Could give me here below;
These few short, fleeting moments,
Oh! I would nearer be
To Thee, my precious Savior,—
The Man who died for me.
He gave me all I asked for,
Yea, more than I can tell;
He filled my soul with rapture,
With joy unspeakable.
The hand of Jesus on my soul
Seemed laid so tenderly;
I had for my companion
The Man who died for me.
To fall asleep in Jesus
'Tis that I think of now;
To be "forever with the Lord,"
Before Himself to bow;
Ah, yes! with Him who kindly
Called Zacchaeus from the tree,
With Him who hung upon the cross,—
The Man who died for me.
J.G.B.