In Hope We Lift Our Wishful, Longing Eyes

In hope we lift our wish­ful

long­ing eyes

Waiting to see the Morn­ing Star arise;

How bright

how glad­some will His ad­vent be

Before the Sun shines forth in ma­jes­ty!

How will our eyes to see His face de­light

Whose love has cheered us thro’ the dark­some night!

How will our ears drink in His well-known voice

Whose faint­est whis­pers make our soul re­joice!

No strain with­in

no foes or snares around

No jar­ring notes shall there dis­cord­ant sound;

All pure with­out

all pure with­in the breast;

No thorns to wound

no toil to mar our rest.

If here on earth the thoughts of Je­sus’ love

Lift our poor heart this wea­ry world above

If ev­en here the taste of heav’n­ly springs

So cheers the spir­it

that the pil­grim sings.

What will the sun­shine of His glo­ry prove?

What the un­min­gled full­ness of His love?

What hal­le­lu­jahs will His pre­sence raise?

What

but one loud eter­nal burst of praise?