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L. M.

A sight of God mortifies us to the world.


[Up to the fields where angels lie,

And living waters gently roll,

Fain would my thoughts leap out and fly,

But sin hangs heavy on my soul.

Thy wondrous blood, dear dying Christ,

Can make this load of guilt remove;

And thou canst bear me where thou fliest,

On thy kind wings, celestial Dove!]

O might I once mount up and see

The glories of th' eternal skies!

What little things these worlds would be!

How despicable to my eyes!

Had I a glance of thee, my God,

Kingdoms and men would vanish soon;

Vanish as though I saw them not,

As a dim candle dies at noon.

Then they might fight, and rage, and rave,

I should perceive the noise no more

Than we can hear a shaking leaf,

While rattling thunders round us roar.

Great All in All, Eternal King

Let me but view thy lovely face,

And all my powers shall bow, and sing

Thine endless grandeur and thy grace.

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