1 Happy the hours, the golden days,
When I could call my Jesus mine,
And sit, and view his smiling face,
And melt in pleasures all divine.
2 But now he's gone (O mighty wo!)
Gone from my soul and hides his love!
I hate the sins that griev'd him so,
The sins that forc'd him to remove!
3 Yet let my hope look through my tears,
And spy afar his rolling throne,
His chariot through the cleaving spheres
Shall bring the bright Beloved down.
4 Swift as a roe flies o'er the hills,
My soul springs out to meet him high:
Then shall the conqu'ror turn his wheels
And climb the mansions of the sky.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | Happy the hours, the golden days |
Meter: | L. M. |
Publication Date: | 1828 |
Topic: | Christian experience: Doubts and Fears; Hidings of God's face |
Notes: | Public Domain. |