Oh wouldst Thou in Thy glo­ry come,
As Thou, Lord, hast fore­told it!
I count the mo­ment’s wea­ry sum
Until we may be­hold it;
With burn­ing lamp, the Church, Thy bride,
Is wait­ing for the ho­ly tide
When Thou, Lord, wilt un­fold it.

Yet I would leave it to Thy choice,
The hour when we shall meet Thee!
Though Thou dost love that heart and voice
Should dai­ly thus en­treat Thee,
And hence­forth all my course should be
Still look­ing on and up to Thee,
With heart pre­pared to greet Thee.

I joy that from Thy love di­vine
No pow­er my soul can se­ver;
That I may dare to call Thee mine,
My Lord, my friend, for ev­er!
That I, O Prince of Life, shall be
Made whol­ly one in Hea­ven with Thee,
In life that end­eth ne­ver.

And there­fore do my thanks o’er­flow
That one more year is end­ed,
And of this time, so poor, so slow,
Another step as­cend­ed;
And with a heart that may not wait
I hast­en to­wards the gold­en gate
Where long my hopes have tend­ed.

And when the wea­ried hands give way,
And wea­ried knees are fail­ing,
Then make Thy migh­ty arm my stay,
Though faith and hope seem quail­ing;
That so my heart drink in new strength,
And fear no more the jour­ney’s length,
O’er doubt and pain pre­vail­ing.

Then on, my soul, with fear­less faith,
Let naught to ter­ror move thee,
Nor list what earth­ly plea­sure saith,
When she would lure and prove thee;
The ea­gles’ wings of love and pray­er
Will bear thee through life’s toil and care
To Him who still doth love thee.