1 While on the verge of life I stand,
And view the scene on either hand,
My spirit struggles with my clay,
And longs to wing its flight away.
2 Where Jesus dwells my soul would be,
And faints my much-loved Lord to see:
Earth, twine no more about my heart!
For 'tis far better to depart
3 Come, ye angelic convoys! come,
And lead the willing pilgrim home;
Ye know the way to Jesus' throne,--
Source of my joys, and of your own.
4 The blissful interview, how sweet!
To fall transported at His feet!
Raised in His arms to see His face
Through the full beamings of His grace!
5 As with a seraph's voice to sing!
To fly as on a cherub's wings!
Performing, with unwearied hands,
The present Saviour's high commands.
6 Yet, with these prospects full in sight,
We'll wait Thy signal for the flight;
For, while Thy service we pursue,
We find a heaven in all we do.
Source: The Book of Worship #372