O Son of God, in co-eter­nal might,
O Son of Man, clothed in the liv­ing light
Of God­head ma­ni­fest, in pow­er and glo­ry;
Lord Je­sus Christ, Thou sole de­sire
That doth Thy long­ing wor­ship­ers in­spire,
For Thee alone, my spir­it yearns in me:
No bliss I find until I am with Thee.

The field is gold­en, flow’rs the mea­dow strew,
The mount­ains rise sub­lime, the skies are blue;
In these the child of earth may well find plea­sure;
I too, re­joice in all of them,
But, not con­tent, I want Je­ru­sa­lem.
Where Thou art thron­èd, thi­ther sets my sail;
Home is not home, ex­cept with­in the veil.

Angelic le­gions, in Thy bright­ness bright
Gaze on Thy face; my fa­thers share the sight;
The God-man’s match­less glo­ry is un­shroud­ed,
And from that vi­sion, to the soul
Unmeasured waves of joy su­per­nal roll,
That rise in full and ev­er full­er tone,
Like ocean surg­es, to the Lamb’s white throne.

Then let me go—what fur­ther hin­ders me?
To mine own folk, the Son of Man to see.
No glance will I, of that ma­jes­tic beau­ty
My ea­ger soul would take her fill.
Joy ev­en now, and trem­bling, through me thrill.
I must away! Thou hast pre­pared my place;
My spir­it pant­eth, Lord, to see Thy face.