| When sorrows encompass me round
|
| And many distresses I see
|
| Astonished I cry, Can a mortal be found
|
| Surrounded with troubles like me?
|
| Few seasons of peace I enjoy
|
| And they are succeeded by pain
|
| If e’er a few moments of praise I employ
|
| I have hours and days to complain
|
| O! |
| when will my sorrows subside?
|
| O! |
| when will my sufferings cease?
|
| O! |
| when to the bosom of Christ be conveyed?
|
| To the mansions of glory and bliss?
|
| May I be prepared for that day
|
| When Jesus shall bid me remove
|
| That I may in raptures go shouting away
|
| To the arms of my heav’nly Love
|
| My spirit to glory conveyed
|
| My body laid low in the ground
|
| I wish not a tear at my grave to be shed
|
| But all join in praising around
|
| No sorrow be vented that day
|
| When Jesus hath called me home
|
| With singing and shouting let each brother say
|
| «He's gone from the evil to come.»
|
| If souls disembodied can know
|
| Or visit their brethern beneath
|
| My spirit shall join you, while singing you go
|
| And leave all my cares in the grave
|
| Immersed in the ocean of love
|
| My soul, like an angel shall sing
|
| Till Christ shall descend with a shout from above
|
| And make all creation to ring
|
| Our bodies, in dust shall obey
|
| And swifter than thought shall arise
|
| Then, changed in a moment, go shouting away
|
| To mansions of love in the skies |