1 How happy every child of grace,
Who knows his sins forgiven!
This earth, he cries, is not my place,
I seek my place in heaven:
A country far from mortal sight;
Yet, O! by faith I see
The land of rest, the saints delight,
The heaven prepar'd for me.

2 O what a blessed hope is ours!
While here on earth we stay,
We more than taste the heavenly powers,
And antedate that day;
We feel the resurrection near,
Our life in Christ conceal'd,
And with his glorious presence here
Our earthen vessels fill'd.

3 O would he more of heaven bestow,
And let the vessel break,
And let our ransom'd spirits go,
To grasp the God we seek:
In rapturous awe on him to gaze,
Who bought the sight for me,
And shout and wonder at his grace
Through all eternity.