1 From this world's joys and senseless mirth,
Oh, come, my soul! in haste retire;
Assume the grandeur of thy birth,
And to thy native heaven aspire.
2 'Tis heav'n alone can make thee blest,
Can ev'ry wish and want supply;
Thy joy, thy crown, thy endless rest,
Are all above the lofty sky.
3 Eternal mansions! bright array!
Oh, blest exchange! transporting thought!
Free from th'approaches of decay,
Or the least shadow of a spot.
4 There shall mortality no more
Its wide extended empire boast,
Forgotten all its dreadful power,
In life's unbounded ocean lost.
5 There dwells the sov'reign Lord of all,
The God that all the worlds adore;
With whom is bliss that cannot pall,
And joys that last for evermore.
Source: Book of Worship (Rev. ed.) #579