Lord, when my thoughts with wonder roll
O'er the sharp sorrows of thy soul,
And read my Maker's broken laws
Repaired and honored by thy cross;
When I behold death, hell, and sin
Vanquished by that dear blood of thine,
And see the Man that groaned and died
Sit glorious by his father's side;
My passions rise and soar above,
I'm winged with faith, and fired with love;
Fain would I reach eternal things,
And learn the notes that Gabriel sings.
But my heart fails, my tongue complains,
For want of their immortal strains
And, in such humble notes as these,
Must fall below thy victories.
Well, the kind minute must appear
When we shall leave these bodies here,
These clogs of clay, and mount on high,
To join the songs above the sky.