How happy's ev'ry child of grace,
That feels his sins forgiv'n!
This earth, he cries, is not my place,
I seek a place in heav'n:
A country far from mortal sight;
Yet oh! by faith I see
The land of rest, the saints' delight,
A heav'n prepared for me.
A stranger in this world below,
I only sojourn here,
Nor can its happiness or woe
Provoke my hope or fear;
Its evils in a moment end,
Its joys as soon are past;
But oh! the bliss to which I tend,
Eternally shall last.
To that Jerusalem above,
With singing I'd repair,
While in this vale, in hope and love,
My longing heart is there.
Shall I regret to leave my friends
Here in this world confined?
To Christ, the Lord, my soul ascends;
Farewell to all behind!
O, what a blessed hope is ours,
While here on earth we stay!
We more than taste the heav'nly pow'rs,
And antedate that day.
We feel the resurrection near,
Our life in Christ concealed;
And with His glorious presence here
Our longing hearts are filled.
When He shall more of heav'n bestow,
And bid my soul remove,
And let my trembling spirit go
To meet the God I love,
With rapturous awe on Him I'll gaze,
Who died to set me free,
And sing and shout redeeming grace
In vast eternity!
--Charles Wesley (1707-1788)