Early, my God, without Delay,
In haste to seek thy Face;
My thirsty Spirit faints away
Without thy cheering Grace.

2 So Pilgrims on the scorching Sand,
Beneath a burning Sky,
Long for a cooling Stream at hand,
And they must drink or die.

3 I've seen thy Glory and thy Pow'r
Thro' all thy Temples shine;
My God, repeat that heav'nly Hour,
That Vision so divine.

4 Not all the Blessings of a Feast
Can please my Soul so well,
As when thy richer Grace I taste,
And in thy Presence dwell.

5 Not Life itself, with all its Joys,
Can my best Passions move,
Or rise so high my cheerful Voice,
As thy forgiving Love.

6 Thus till my last expiring Day
I'll bless my God and King;
Thus will I lift my Hands to pray,
And tune my Lips to sing.