CCXCV. The Happiness of departing, and being with CHRIST.

WHILE on the Verge of Life I stand,
And view the Scene on either Hand,
My Spirit struggles with its Clay,
And longs to wing its Flight away.

Where Jesus dwells my Soul would be;
It saints my much-lov'd Lord to see:
Earth, twine no more about my Heart,
For 'tis far better to depart.

Come, ye angelick Envoys , come,
And lead the willing Pilgrim home:
Ye know the Way to Jesus' Throne,
Source of my Joys, and of your own.

That blessed Interview, how sweet!
To fall transported at his Feet!
Rais'd in his Arms to view his Face,
Thro' the full Beamings of his Grace!

To see Heav'ns shining Courtiers round,
Each with immortal Glories crown'd!
And, while his Form in each I trace,
Belov'd, and loving all t' embrace!

As with a Seraph's Voice to sing!
To fly as on a Cherub's Wing!
Performing with unwearied Hands
A present Saviour's high Commands!

Yet with these Prospects full in Sight,
I'll wait thy Signal for my Flight;
For, while thy Service I persue,
I find my Heav'n begun below.