With Transport Lord We View The Page
With transport, Lord! we view the page,
Where all thy mercies shine;
And joy to tell the rising age,
What boundless grace is thine.
The world, with all its shifting schemes,
Time, with its fleeting hours,
Life, with its gay and flatt’ting dreams,
Its hopes and fears, is ours.
Death, also, at our Father’s word,
Lays all its terrors by;
Gently divides the silver cord,
And calls us to the sky.
Fain would our hearts a tribute bring,
Before our Father’s throne;
A tribute worthy of our King,
Whose mercies are unknown.