Isaac Watts

Hymn 75

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Spiritual and eternal joys; or, The beatific sight of Christ.

From thee, my God, my joys shall rise,
And run eternal rounds,
Beyond the limits of the skies,
And all created bounds.

The holy triumphs of my soul
Shall death itself outbrave,
Leave dull mortality behind,
And fly beyond the grave.

There, where my blessed Jesus reigns,
In heav'n's unmeasured space,
I'll spend a long eternity
In pleasure and in praise.

Millions of years my wond'ring eyes
Shall o'er thy beauties rove,
And endless ages I'll adore
The glories of thy love.

[Sweet Jesus, every smile of thine
Shall fresh endearments bring;
And thousand tastes of new delight
From all thy graces spring.

Haste, my Beloved, fetch my soul
Up to thy blest abode;
Fly, for my spirit longs to see
My Savior and my God.]

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Isaac Watts