Jesus Is Gone Above The Skies
Jesus is gone above the skies,
Where our weak senses reach him not;
And carnal objects court our eyes,
To thrust our Savior from our thought.
He knows what wand’ring hearts we have,
Apt to forget his lovely face;
And, to refresh our minds, he gave
These kind memorials of his grace.
The Lord of life his table spread
With his own flesh and dying blood;
We on the rich provision feed,
And taste the wine and bless the God.
Let sinful sweets be all forgot,
And earth grow less in our esteem;
Christ and his love fill ev’ry thought,
And faith and hope be fix’d on him.
While he is absent from our sight,
‘Tis to prepare our souls a place;
That we may dwell in heav’nly light,
And live for ever near his face.