’Tis the fair dawn of heav’nly day,
To heav’nly bliss the shining way;
When to His temple God descends,
And there converses with His friends.
At His right hand our Savior stands,
With golden censers in His hands,
To lift our services on high,
Perfumed with His own fragrancy.
These are the dearest hours I know,
The sweetest joys of all below;
Here I would choose my first abode,
And dwell for ever near my God.
One gracious smile, my Lord, from Thee,
One glimpse of what Thy glories be,
Will yield my soul more solid mirth
Than all the trifling joys of earth.
And were the world at my command,
For one dear hour at Thy right hand,
The mighty interest I’d resign,
And count th’advantage greatly mine.