Hymnal: Hymns, Selected and Original #118 (1828) Meter: 8.8.8.8 Lyrics: 1 When at a distance, Lord, we trace
The various glories of thy face,
What transport pours o'er all our breast,
And charms our cares and woes to rest!
2 With thee, in the obscurest cell,
On some bleak mountain would I dwell,
Rather than pompous courts behold,
And share their grandeur and their gold.
3 Away, ye dreams of mortal joy;
Raptures divine my thoughts employ,
I see the King of glory shine;
And feel his love, and call him mine.
4 On Tabor thus his servants view'd
His lustre, when transform'd he stood;
And, bidding earthly scenes farewell,
Cries, "Lord, 'tis pleasant here to dwell."
5 Yet still our elevated eyes
To nobler visions long to rise;
That grand assembly would we join,
Where all thy saints around thee shine.
6 That mount, how bright! those forms, how fair!
'Tis good to dwell for ever there!
Come, death, dear envoy of my God,
And bear me to that blest abode.
Topics: Christ Life and Ministry; Christ's Transfiguration Scripture: Matthew 17:4
When at a distance, Lord, we trace