Preparation for Death, 34

Who shall that rapturous sight explain,
Which gracious souls departing gain.
The crown of all their grace?
I -ife cannot bear the bliss Divine:
Then let me, Lord, my soul resign,
To see Thy heavenly face.

This earth, I know, is not my home,
Through which a banish'd man I roam,
A weary pilgrim I,
Till, at Thy word, my wanderings cease,
And, mounting from the wilderness,
I to Thy bosom fly.

O that I on the wings of love,
The wings of Thy celestial Dove,
Could from the valley soar;
Escape to my Redeemer's breast,
Recover there my endless rest.
And never wander more!

Author, and End of my desires,
Whom my imprison'd soul aspires
As I am known to know,
Come, and dissolve this fleshly chain,
And take me to Thine arms again,
And all Thy glory show.