1 While on the verge of life I stand,
And view the scene on either hand,
My spirit struggles with my clay,
And longs to wing its flight away.

2 Where Jesus dwells my soul would be;
And faints my much lov'd Lord to see;
Earth, twine no more about my heart,
For 'tis far better to depart.

3 Come, ye angelic envoys, come,
And lead the willing pilgrim home?
Ye know the way to Jesus' throne,
Source of my joys, and of your own.

4 That blissful interview, how sweet!
To fall transported at his feet!
Rais'd in his arms to see his face,
Thro' the full beamings of his grace!

5 As with a seraph's voice to sing!
To fly as on a cherub's wing!
Performing with unweary'd hands,
The present Saviour's high commands.

6 Yet, with these prospects full in sight,
We'll wait thy signal for the flight;
For while thy service we pursue,
We find a heaven in all we do.