When faith beholds the saints above

1 When faith beholds the saints above,
And hears their strains of Jesus' love;
I fain would fly to join their lays,
And sing with them my Saviour's praise.

2 But can my soul such bliss obtain,
Whose guilt deserves eternal pain
Can I expect his face to see
Throughout a vast eternity?

3 If heaven be mine, 'tis all of grace,
I'll praise him for the lowest place;
May I but reach within the door,
My anxious soul desires no more.

4 'There, yet that love my Saviour, sit,
There I with you would fain have place,
Among your thrones or at your feet,
So I might see his lovely face.'

Source: Hymns, Selected and Original: for public and private worship (1st ed.) #741