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1 How happy every child of grace,
Who knows his sins forgiv'n!
This earth, he cries, is not my place,
I seek my place in heaven:
A country far from mortal sight;
Yet, O! by faith I see
The land of rest, the saints' delight,
The heaven prepar'd for me.
2 O what a blessed hope is ours!
While here on earth we stay,
We more than taste the heavenly powers,
And antedate that day:
We feel the resurrection near,
Our life in Christ conceal'd,
And with His glorious presence here
Our earthen vessels fill'd.
3 O would he more of heaven bestow,
And let the vessels break,
And let our ransom'd spirits go,
To grasp the God we seek;
In rapt'rous awe on him to gaze,
Who bought the sight for me,
And shout and wonder at his grace
Through all eternity.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | How happy every child of grace |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1790 |
Topic: | Praise |