Thou art gone up on high, to man­sions in the skies;
And round Thy throne un­ceas­ingly the songs of praise arise;
But we are lin­ger­ing here, with sin and care op­pressed;
Lord, send Thy pro­mised Com­fort­er, and lead us to Thy rest.

Thou art gone up on high; but Thou didst first come down,
Through earth’s most bit­ter mi­se­ry to pass un­to Thy crown;
And girt with griefs and fears our on­ward course must be;
But on­ly let this path of tears lead us at last to Thee.

Thou art gone up on high; but Thou shalt come again,
With all the bright ones of the sky at­tend­ant in Thy train.
Lord, by Thy sav­ing pow­er so make us live and die,
That we may stand in that dread hour at Thy right hand on high.