Hymns and Spiritual Songs, in Three Books ‎#II.LXI

II.LXI. A thought of death and glory

1 My soul, come meditate the day
And think how near it stands,
When thou must quit this house of clay
And fly to unknown lands.

2 [And you, mine eyes, look down and view,
The hollow, gaping tomb;
This gloomy prison waits for you,
Whene'er the summons come.]

3 O! could we die with those that die,
And place us in their stead;
Then would our spirits learn to fly,
And converse with the dead:

4 Then should we see the saints above,
In their own glorious forms,
And wonder why our souls should love
To dwell with mortal worms.

5 [How should we scorn these cloths of flesh,
These fetters, and this load;
And long for ev'ning to undress,
That we may rest with God.]

6 We should almost forsake our clay,
Before the summons come,
And pray, and wish our souls away
To their eternal home.

Text Information

• First Line: My soul, come, meditate the day
• Title: A thought of death and glory
• Meter: C. M.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1793

Tune Information

(No tune information)