Jesus, if still that same thou art,
If all thy promises are sure,
Set up thy kingdom in my heart,
And make me rich, for I am poor,
To me be all thy treasures given,
The kingdom of an inward heaven.
Thou hast pronounced the mourners blest;
And lo, for thee I ever mourn:
I cannot - no, I will not rest,
Till thou, my only rest, return;
Till thou, the Prince of Peace, appear,
And I receive the Comforter.
Where is the blessedness bestowed
On all that hunger after thee?
I hunger now, I thirst for God;
See the poor fainting sinner, see,
And satisfy with endless peace,
And fill me with thy righteousness.
Shine on thy work, disperse the gloom,
Light in thy light I then shall see;
Say to my soul: 'Thy light is come,
Glory divine is risen on thee,
Thy warfare's past, thy mourning's o'er;
Look up, for thou shalt weep no more!'