1 How am I held a prisoner now,
Far from my God! this mortal chain
Binds me to sorrow: all below
Is short-lived ease, or tiresome pain.
2 When shall that wondrous hour appear,
Which frees me from this dark abode,
To live at large in regions where
Nor cloud nor veil shall hid my God?
3 Farewell this flesh, these ears, these eyes,
These snares and fetters of the mind;
My God! nor let this frame arise,
Till every dust be will refined.
4 Blest Jesus! make my nature whole,
Mold me a body like thy own,
Then shall it better serve my soul,
In works of praise and worlds unknown.
The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799