Hosanna to Je­sus on high!
Another has en­tered His rest;
Another es­caped to the sky,
And lodged in Im­ma­nu­el’s breast;
The soul of our bro­ther is gone
To height­en the tri­umph above,
Exalted to Je­sus’ bright throne,
And clasped in the arms of His love.

What full­ness of rap­ture is there,
While Je­sus His glo­ry dis­plays,
And pur­ples the hea­ven­ly air,
And scat­ters the od­ors of grace!
He looks—and His ser­vants in light
The bless­ing in­ef­fa­ble meet;
He smiles—and they faint at the sight,
And fall ov­er­whelmed at His feet!

How hap­py the an­gels that fall,
Transported at Je­sus’ sweet name!
The saints, whom He soon­est shall call
To share in the feast of the Lamb!
No longer im­pri­soned in clay,
Who next from the dun­geon shall fly,
Who first shall be sum­moned away?
My mer­ci­ful God—is it I?

O Je­sus, if this be Thy will
That sud­den­ly I should de­part,
Thy coun­cil of mer­cy re­veal,
And whis­per the call to my heart:
O give me a sig­nal to know
If soon Thou wouldst have me re­move,
And leave this dull bo­dy be­low,
And fly to the re­gions of love.

Thou know’st in the spir­it of pray­er
I groan for a speedy re­lease,
And long I have pined to be there
Where sor­row and mi­se­ry cease:
Where all the temp­ta­tion is past,
And loss and af­flict­ion are o’er,
And ang­uish is end­ed at last,
And trou­ble and death are no more.

Come then to my res­cue (I pray
For this, and for no­thing be­side)
Make rea­dy, and bear me away,
Thy weary dis­con­so­late bride:
The days of my mourn­ing and pain
Cut short, and in pi­ty set free,
And take me to rest and to reign
For ev­er and ev­er in Thee.