Ah! Jesus Christ, how fair Wilt be my portion there! The welcome Thou'lt address me, Thy glances, how they'll bless me, When I the earth forsaking, My flight to Thee am taking. Ah! what will be the word Thou'lt speak, my Shepherd Lord! What will be then Thy greeting, Me and my brethren meeting? Thy members Thou wilt own us, And near Thyself enthrone us. And in that blessèd hour, How shall I have the pow'r Mine eyelids dry of keeping, How tears of joy from weeping Refrain, that flowing over My cheeks, like floods would cover? And what a beauteous light Will from Thy face so bright Beam on me, then in heaven, When sight of Thee is given, Thy goodness then me filling, Joy will my breast be swelling. I'll see then and adore Thy body bruisèd sore, Whereon our faith is founded, The prints of nails that wounded Thy hands and feet be greeting, Thy gaze with rapture meeting. Thou, Lord, alone dost know The joys so pure that flow In life's unfailing river In paradise for ever, Thou can'st portray, and show them: By faith alone I know them. What I've believ'd stands sure, Remaineth aye secure; My part the wealth surpasseth; The richest here amasseth; All other wealth decayeth My portion ever stayeth. My God, my fairest Part! How will my bounding heart With joy be overflowing, Praise evermore renewing, When through the door of heaven By Thee is entrance given? Thou'lt say, "Come, taste and see, Oh! child, belov'd by me, Come, taste the gifts so precious I and my Father gracious Have to bestow, come hither, In pleasure bask for ever." Alas! thou world so poor! Of wealth, what is thy store? Mean is it to be holden, Compar'd with all the golden Crowns and thrones Jesus placeth For whom He loves and graceth. Here is the angel's home, Bless'd spirits hither come, Here nought is heard but singing, Nought seen but joy up-springing, No cross, no death, no sorrow, No parting on the morrow. Hold! hold! my sense so weak! What dost thou think and speak, What's fathomless, art sounding? What's measureless, art bounding? Here must man's wit be bending The eloquent be ending. Lord! I delight in Thee, Thou ne'er shalt go from me, Thy hand in bounty giveth More than my heart conceiveth, Or I can e'er be counting, So high Thy mercy's mounting. How sad, O Lord, am I, Until I from on high See Thee in glory hither Come, Thine own to deliver, Wert Thou but now revealing Thyself! my wish fulfilling! The time is known to Thee; It best becometh me To be prepar'd for going, And all things so be doing, That every moment even My heart may be in Heaven.