1 Earth has detain'd me prisoner long;
But I’m grown weary now:
My heart, my hands, my ears my tongue
There’s nothing here for you.

2 Tired myself I lay me down,
And upward cast my eyes,
Upward, my Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.

3 There the dear Lord, my Saviour sits;
O see how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.

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

5 Jesus the Lord their harps employs,
"Jesus my love they sing,"
"Jesus" the God of both our joys,
Sounds sweet from every string.

6 Now would I rise to join the song,
And be an angel too;
My heart my hands, my ears, my tongue
There's joyful work for you.

7 I would begin the music here,
And so my soul shall rise;
O! for some heav'nly note to bear
My spirit to the skies!