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1 There is a House not made with Hands,
eternal and on high,
And here my Spirit waiting stands,
till God shall bid it fly.
2 Shortly this Prison of my Clay
must be dissolv'd and fall;
Then, O my Soul, with Joy obey
Thy heav'nly Father's Call.
3 'Tis He by his almighty Grace,
that forms thee fit for Heav'n,
And as an Earnest of the Place,
has his own Spirit giv'n.
4 We walk by Faith of Joys to come,
Faith lives upon his Word;
But while the Body is our Home
we're absent from the Lord.
5 'Tis pleasant to believe thy Grace,
but we had rather see;
We would be absent from the Flesh,
and present, Lord, with Thee.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | There is a House not made with Hands |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1760 |
Scripture: |