We know, by faith we know,
If this vile house of clay,
This ta­ber­na­cle sink be­low,
In ru­in­ous de­cay;
We have a house above,
Not made with mor­tal hands,
And firm, as our Re­deem­er’s love,
The heav’nly fab­ric stands.

It stands se­curely high,
Indissolubly sure;
Our glo­ri­ous man­sion in the sky
Shall ev­er­more en­dure;
O were we en­tered there!
To per­fect Heav’n re­stored!
O were we all caught up to share
The tri­umph of our Lord!

For this in faith we call,
For this we weep and pray;
O might the ta­ber­na­cle fall;
O might we ’scape away!
Full of im­mor­tal hope,
We urge the rest­less strife,
And hast­en to be swal­lowed up,
In ev­er­last­ing life.

Absent, al­as! from God,
We in the bo­dy mourn;
And pine to quit this mean abode,
And lang­uish to re­turn;
Jesus, re­gard our vows,
And change our faith to sight;
And clothe us with our nob­ler house,
Of em­py­re­an light!

O let us put on Thee!
In per­fect ho­li­ness!
And rise pre­pared Thy face to see
Thy bright un­cloud­ed face;
Thy grace with glo­ry crown,
Who hast the ear­nest giv’n;
And now tri­um­phant­ly come down
And take our souls to Heav’n!