Hymns, Selected and Original ‎#118

118. When at a distance, Lord, we trace

1 When at a distance, Lord, we trace
The various glories of thy face,
What transport pours o'er all our breast,
And charms our cares and woes to rest!

2 With thee, in the obscurest cell,
On some bleak mountain would I dwell,
Rather than pompous courts behold,
And share their grandeur and their gold.

3 Away, ye dreams of mortal joy;
Raptures divine my thoughts employ,
I see the King of glory shine;
And feel his love, and call him mine.

4 On Tabor thus his servants view'd
His lustre, when transform'd he stood;
And, bidding earthly scenes farewell,
Cries, "Lord, 'tis pleasant here to dwell."

5 Yet still our elevated eyes
To nobler visions long to rise;
That grand assembly would we join,
Where all thy saints around thee shine.

6 That mount, how bright! those forms, how fair!
'Tis good to dwell for ever there!
Come, death, dear envoy of my God,
And bear me to that blest abode.

Text Information

• First Line: When at a distance, Lord, we trace
• Meter: L. M.
• Publication Date: 1828
• Scripture:
  Matthew 17:4
• Topic: Christ: Life and Ministry; Christ's Transfiguration

Tune Information

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