1 Far from my thoughts, vain world, be gone, Let my religious hours alone; Fain would my eyes my Saviour see, I wait a visit, Lord, from thee.
2 My heart grows warm with holy fire, And kindles with a pure desire: Come, my dear Jesus, from above, And feed my soul with heavenly love.
3 [The trees of life immortal stand In flourishing rows at thy right-hand, And in sweet murmurs by their side Rivers of bliss perpetual glide.
4 Haste then, but with a smiling face, And spread the table of thy grace: Bring down a taste of fruit divine, And cheer my heart with sacred wine.]
6 Blest Jesus, what delicious fare! How sweet thy entertainments are! Never did angels taste above Redeeming grace, and dying love.
6 Hail, great Immanuel, all divine, In thee thy Father's glories shine; Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest one, That eyes have seen, or angels known.