1 Earth has engross'd my love too long;
'Tis time I lift mine eyes
Upward, dear Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.
2 There the blest Man my Saviour sits;
The God! how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.
3 Seraphs with elevated strains,
Circle the throne around:
And move and charm the starry plains,
With an immortal sound.
4 Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs;
Jesus, my love, they sing;
Jesus, the life of both our joys,
Sounds sweet from every string.
5 [Hark, how beyond the narrow bounds
Of time and space they run;
And echo in majestic sounds
The Godhead of the Son!
6 And now they sink the lofty tune,
And gentler notes they play;
And bring the Father's equal down
To dwell in humble clay.
7 O sacred beauties of the Man!
(The God resides within:)
His flesh all pure without a stain;
His soul without a sin:
9 But, when to Calvary they turn,
Silent their harps abide:
Suspended songs, a moment, mourn
The God that lov'd and died.
10 Now let me mount and join their song,
And be an angel too;
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you.
11 I would begin the music here,
And so my soul would rise:
O for some heavenly notes to bear
My passions to the skies!
12 There ye that love my Saviour sit:
There I would fain have place,
Among your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might see his face.
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