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1 Let others boast their ancient line
In long succession great;
In the proud list let heroes shine,
And monarchs swell the state;
Descended from the King of Kings,
Each saint a nobler title sings.
2 Pronounce me, gracious God, thy son,
Own me an heir divine;
I'll pity princes on the throne,
When I can call thee mine;
Scepters and crowns unenvied rise,
And lose their lustre in mine eyes.
3 Content, obscure I pass my days,
To all I meet unknown,
And wait till thou thy child shalt raise,
And seat menear thy throne.
No name, no honors here I crave,
Well pleas'd with those beyond the grave.
4 Jesus, my elder brother, lives,
With him I too shall reign;
Nor sin, nor death, while he survives,
Shall make the promise vain.
In him my title stands secure,
And shall, while endless years endure.
5 When he, in robes divinely bright,
Shall once again appear,
Thou, too my soul, shalt shine in light,
And his full image bear.
Enough!—I wait th' appointed day,
Bless'd Savior, haste, and come away!
Source: A Selection of Hymns: from the best authors, intended to be an appendix to Dr. Watt's psalms and hymns. (1st Am. ed.) #XCI
First Line: | Let others boast their ancient line |
Author: | Robert Cruttenden |
Language: | English |
Copyright: | Public Domain |