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Far from my thoughts
Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone,
Let my religious hours alone:
Fain would my eyes my Savior see;
I wait a
visit, Lord, from Thee.
My heart grows warm with holy fire,
And kindles with a pure desire:
Come, my dear Jesus, from
above,
And feed my soul with heav’nly love.
The trees of life immortal stand
In fragrant rows at Thy right hand;
And in
sweet murmurs, by their side,
Rivers of bliss perpetual glide.
Haste, then, but with a smiling face,
And spread the table of Thy
grace;
Bring down a taste of fruit divine,
And cheer my heart with sacred wine.
Bless’d Jesus, what delicious fare!
How
sweet Thy entertainments are!
Never did angels taste above
Redeeming grace, and dying love.
Hail, great Immanuel, all
divine!
In Thee Thy Father’s glories shine;
Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest One,
That eyes have seen or angels known.
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