The Humble Worship of Heaven.

1 Father, I long, I faint to see
The place of thine abode,
I'd leave thy earthly courts and flee
Up to thy seat, my God!

2 Here I behold thy distant face,
And 'tis a pleasing sight;
But to abide in thine embrace
Is infinite delight.

3 I'd part with all the joys of sense
To gaze upon thy throne;
Pleasure springs fresh for ever thence,
Unspeakable, unknown.

4 [There all the heavenly hosts are seen,
In shining ranks they move,
And drink immortal vigour in,
With wonder and with love.

5 Then at thy feet with awful fear
Th' adoring armies fall
With joy they shrink to nothing there,
Before th' Eternal All.

6 There I would vie with all the host
In duty and in bliss,
While less than nothing I could boast,
And vanity confess.] [1]

7 The more thy glories strike mine eyes,
The humbler I shall lie;
Thus while I sink, my joys shall rise
Unmeasurably high.