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CLXV | A Pocket Hymn Book#CLXVI | CLXVII |
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 prepared 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 vessel break,
And let our ransom'd spirit go,
To grasp the God we seek:
In rapturous 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 |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1791 |
Topic: | Praise |