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The Immortal
'Tis not that Thou hast given to me,
A form which mortals cannot see,
That I rejoice;
But that I know Thou art around,
And though there comes to me no sound,
I hear thy voice.
A form which mortals cannot see,
That I rejoice;
But that I know Thou art around,
And though there comes to me no sound,
I hear thy voice.
'Tis not that Thou hast given me place,
Among a new and happy race,
I serve Thee, Lord;
But that thy mercies never fail,
And shall o'er all my sins prevail,
Through thine own word.
Among a new and happy race,
I serve Thee, Lord;
But that thy mercies never fail,
And shall o'er all my sins prevail,
Through thine own word.
Its praise has gone abroad; who hears,
He casts aside all earth-born fears,
By it he lives;
It bids him triumph o'er the grave,
To him o'er death dominion gave,
Thy joy and peace it gives.
He casts aside all earth-born fears,
By it he lives;
It bids him triumph o'er the grave,
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Thy joy and peace it gives.
Hear it ye poor! and ye who weep!
Arise who lie in sin's long sleep!
'Tis strong to free;
Give ear and it shall lead you on,
'Till you the crown again have won,
And me and mine can see.
Arise who lie in sin's long sleep!
'Tis strong to free;
Give ear and it shall lead you on,
'Till you the crown again have won,
And me and mine can see.
Poem No. 730; summer 1839
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