Earth has engrossed my love too long,
'Tis time I lift mine eyes
Upward, dear Father, to Thy throne,
And to my native skies.
There the blest man, my Savior sits,
The God! how bright He shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.
Seraphs, with elevated strains,
Circle the throne around,
And move and charm the starry plains
With an immortal sound.
Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs:
Jesus, my love they sing!
Jesus the life of both our joys,
Sounds sweet from ev'ry string.
Hark! how beyond the narrow bounds
Of time and space they run,
And echo in majestic sounds
The Godhead of the Son!
And now they sink the lofty tune,
And gentler notes they play;
And bring the Father's equal down
To dwell in humble clay.
O sacred beauties of the main,
The God resides within:
His flesh all pure, without a stain,
His soul without a sin.
But when to Calvary they turn,
Silent their harps abide,
Suspended songs, a moment mourn
The God that loved and died.