1 How meanly dwells the immortal mind!
How vile these bodies are!
Why was a clod of earth, designed
To enclose a heavenly star?
2 Weak cottage where our souls reside,
This flesh a tottering wall:
The frightful breaches gaping wide,
The buildings bends to fall.
3 All round it storms of sorrow blow,
And waves of trouble roll;
Cold waves, and winter storms, beat through,
And pain the tenant soul.
4 "Alas, how frail our state!" said I,
And thus went mourning on,
Till sudden from the cleaving sky
A gleam of glory shone.
5 My soul all felt the glory come,
And breathed her native air;
Then she remembered heaven her home,
And she a prisoner here.
6 Straight she began to change her key,
And joyful in her chains,
She sung the frailty of her clay
In pleasurable strains.
7 "How weak the prison is where I dwell!
This flesh a tottering wall!
The breaches cheerfully foretell,
The house must shortly fall.
8 "No more my friends, shall I complain,
Though all my heart strings ache,
Welcome disease, and every pain,
That makes the cottage shake.
9 "I have a mansion built above,
By the eternal hand
And should the earth's old basis move
My heavenly house must stand.
10 "Yes for 'tis there my Savior reigns;
(I long to see my God)
And his immortal strength sustains
The purchase of his blood.
11 "Hark, from on high my Savior call
I come, my Lord, my love;
Devotion breaks the prison walls,
And speeds my last remove."
The Christian's duty, exhibited in a series of hymns, 1791