1 Descend from heaven, immortal Dove, Stoop down and take us on thy wings, And mount and bear us far above The reach of these inferior things.
2 Beyond, beyond this lower sky, Up where eternal ages roll, Where solid pleasures never die, And fruits immortal feast the soul.
3 O for a sight, a pleasing sight Of our almighty Father's throne! There sits our Saviour crown'd with light Cloth'd in a body like our own.
4 Adoring saints around him stand, And thrones, and powers before him fall; The God shines gracious thro' the man, And sheds sweet glories on them all.
5 O what amazing joys they feel While to their golden harps they sing, And sit on every heavenly hill, And spread the triumphs of their King!
6 When shall the day, dear Lord, appear That I shall mount to dwell above, And stand and bow amongst them there, And view thy face, and sing, and love!