1 How let my soul with transport rise,
And range thro' earth and mount the skies,
And view each various form of good,
Where angels hold their high abode.
2 Hath not the bounteous King of heav'n
His chief belov'd already giv'n?
And what shall mercy hold too good
For sinners ransom'd with his blood?
3 My soul, with fearless faith embrace
The sacred cov'nant of his grace;
With joyful hope, obedient, wait
The issues of a love so great.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | How let my soul with transport rise |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1814 |
Topic: | Sufferings and Death of Christ |