How Full of Anguish Is the Thought

How full of ang­uish is the thought

How it dis­tracts and tears my heart

If God at last

my sov­er­eign judge

Should frown

and bid my soul De­part!

Lord

when I quit this earth­ly stage

Where shall I fly

but to Thy breast?

For I have sought no other home;

For I have learned no oth­er rest.

I can­not live con­tent­ed here

Without some glimps­es of Thy face;

And Heav’n

with­out Thy pre­sence there

Would be a dark and tire­some place.

When earth­ly cares en­gross the day

And hold my thoughts aside from Thee

The shin­ing hours of cheer­ful light

Are long and te­di­ous years to me.

And if no ev­en­ing vis­it’s paid

Between my Sav­ior and my soul

How dull the night! how sad the shade!

How mourn­ful­ly the min­utes roll!

This flesh of mine might learn as soon

To live

yet part with all my blood;

To breathe

when vi­tal air is gone

Or thrive and grow with­out my food.

Christ is my light

my life

my care

My bless­èd hope

my heav’n­ly prize;

Dearer than all my pas­sions are

My limbs

my bow­els

or my eyes.

The strings that twine about my heart

Tortures and racks may tear them off;

But they can nev­er

nev­er part

With their dear hold of Christ my love.

My God! And can a hum­ble child

That loves Thee with a flame so high

Be ev­er from Thy face ex­iled

Without the pi­ty of Thine eye?

Impossible! For Thine own hands

Have tied my heart so fast to Thee;

And in Thy book the pro­mise stands

That where Thou art

Thy friends must be.