1 Jesus, come, thou hope of glory;
Purify me, that I
May with saints adore thee.
2 Big with earnest expectation,
Still I sit at thy feet,
Longing for salvation.
3 My poor heart vouchsafe to dwell in,
Make me thine, Love divine,
By thy spirit's sealing.
4 Thou hast laid the sure foundation
Of my hope, build me up;
Finish thy creation.
5 From this inbred sin deliver;
Let the yoke now be broke,
Make me thine for ever.
6 Partner of thy perfect nature,
let me be, now in thee,
A new spotless creature.
7 Perfect when I walk before thee,
Soon or late, then translate
To the realms of glory.Source: A Pocket Hymn Book: designed as a constant companion for the pious, collected from various authors (9th ed.) #XLVI