1 From this world's joys and senseless mirth,
O come, my soul! in haste retire;
Assume the grandeur of thy birth,
And to thy native heav'n aspire.

2 'Tis heav'n alone can make thee blest,
Can ev'ry wish and want supply;
Thy joy, thy crown, thy endless rest,
Are all above the lofty sky.

3 Eternal mansions! bright array!
O blest exchange! transporting thought!
Free from th'approaches of decay,
Or the least shadow of a spot.

4 There shall mortality no more
Its wide extended empire boast;
Forgotten all its dreadful pow'r,
In life's unbounded ocean lost.

5 There dwells the sov'reign Lord of all,
The God that all the worlds adore;
With whom is bliss that cannot pall,
And joys that last for ever more.