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301

872.

[Jesus, to Thee]

O that I had wings like a dove, for then, &c. —lv. 6–8.

Jesus, to Thee
I fain would flee,
The sinner's sanctuary;
Find my true felicity,
And in Thy presence tarry.
O let the Dove,
Who from above
First on Thyself descended,
Fill my heart with patient love,
Till all these storms are ended.
Thrice happy, might
I urge my flight,
Removed by His translation,
Out of darkness into light,
Into Thy full salvation!
The rest be mine
For which I pine,
Which for Thy saints remaineth;
Rest of righteousness Divine,
Where love eternal reigneth.
The eagles' wings,
Thy Spirit brings
The wings of faith and prayer;
They beyond all earthly things
My ravish'd soul shall bear.
Far from the crowd
Of passions loud,
Thyself to me discover:
Then I dwell alone with God,
And clasp my heavenly Lover;
302

In calm repose
Forget my woes,
And all things transitory;
Then my willing eyes I close,
And wake to see Thy glory.
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