Lord, at thy temple we appear,

As happy Simeon came,

And hope to meet our Savior here;

O make our joys the same!

With what divine and vast delight

The good old man was filled,

When fondly in his withered arms

He clasped the holy child!

"Now I can leave this world," he cried,

"Behold, thy servant dies;

I've seen thy great salvation, Lord,

And close my peaceful eyes.

"This is the light prepared to shine

Upon the Gentile lands,

Thine Isr'el's glory, and their hope

To break their slavish bands."

[Jesus! the vision of thy face

Hath overpowering charms;

Scarce shall I feel death's cold embrace,

If Christ be in my arms.

Then while ye hear my heart-strings breuk,

How sweet my minutes roll!

A mortal paleness on my cheek,

And glory in my soul.]