I long to be­hold Him ar­rayed
With glo­ry and light from above,
The King in His beau­ty dis­played,
His beau­ty of ho­li­est love:
I lang­uish and die to be there
Where Je­sus hath fixed His abode:
O when shall we meet in the air,
And fly to the mount­ain of God?

With Him I on Si­on shall stand,
For Je­sus hath spok­en the word,
The breadth of Im­ma­nu­el’s land
Survey by the light of my Lord;
But when, on Thy bo­som re­clined,
Thy face I am strength­ened to see,
My full­ness of rap­ture I find,
My hea­ven of hea­vens in Thee.