1 ’Tis the fair dawn of heav’nly day,
To heav’nly bliss the shining way;
When to His temple God descends,
And there converses with His friends.

2 At His right hand our Savior stands,
With golden censers in His hands,
To lift our services on high,
Perfumed with His own fragrancy.

3 These are the dearest hours I know,
The sweetest joys of all below;
Here I would choose my first abode,
And dwell for ever near my God.

4 One gracious smile, my Lord, from Thee,
One glimpse of what Thy glories be,
Will yield my soul more solid mirth
Than all the trifling joys of earth.

5 And were the world at my command,
For one dear hour at Thy right hand,
The mighty interest I’d resign,
And count th’advantage greatly mine.