Come, Lord, and help me to re­joice,
In hope that I shall hear Thy voice,
Shall one day see my God;
Shall cease from all my sin and strife,
Shall touch and taste the word of life,
And feel the sprink­led blood.

I shall not always make my moan,
Nor wor­ship Thee a God un­known,
But I shall live to prove
Thy peo­ple’s rest, and saint’s de­light,
The length, and breadth, and depth, and height,
Of Thy re­deem­ing love.

I can­not love Thee lit­tle, Lord,
Whenever by Thy grace re­stored,
I taste how good Thou art:
Much shall I love, or not at all,
Forgiven much, I sure­ly shall
Love Thee with all my heart.

O glo­ri­ous hope of per­fect love!
It lifts me up to things above;
It bears on ea­gle’s wings.
It gives my ra­vished soul a taste,
And makes me for some mo­ments feast
With Je­sus’ priests and kings.

Rejoicing now in ear­nest hope,
I stand, and from the mount­ain top
See all the land be­low;
Rivers of milk and ho­ney rise,
And all the fruits of pa­ra­dise
In end­less plen­ty grow.

A land of corn, and wine, and oil,
So fa­vored with God’s lov­ing smile,
With ev­ery bless­ing blest;
There dwells the Lord, our right­eous­ness,
And keeps His own in per­fect peace,
And ev­er­last­ing rest.

O that I might at once go up,
No more by Jor­dan’s side to stop,
But now the land pos­sess;
This moment end my le­gal years,
My sor­rows, sins, my doubts and fears,
A howl­ing wil­der­ness!

Now, O my Jo­shua, bring me in,
Cast out my foes; the in­bred sin,
The car­nal mind re­move:
The pur­chase of Thy death di­vide,
And O! with all the sanc­ti­fied
Give me Thy land of love.