1 Earth has engross'd my love too long;
'Tis time I lift mine eyes
Upward, dear Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.

2 There the blest man my Saviour sits;
The GOD how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.

3 Seraphs with elevated strains,
Circle the throne around:
And move, and charm the starry plains,
With an immortal sound.

4 Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs;
Jesus, my love, they sing;
Jesus, the life of both our joys,
Sounds sweet from every string.

5 Now let me mount and join their song,
And be an angel too;
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you.

6 I would begin the music here,
And so my soul would rise:
O for some heav'nly notes to bear
My passions to the skies!

7 There ye that love my Saviour sit;
There I would fain have place,
Among your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might see his face.