Descend from Heav’n, Immortal Dove

Descend from Heav’n

im­mor­tal Dove

Stoop down and take us on Thy wings

And mount and bear us far ab­ove

The reach of these in­fer­ior things:

Beyond

be­yond this low­er sky

Up where eter­nal ag­es roll;

Where so­lid plea­sures nev­er die

And fruits im­mor­tal feast the soul.

O for a sight

a pleas­ing sight

Of our al­migh­ty Fa­ther’s throne!

There sits our Sav­ior crowned with light

Clothed in a bo­dy like our own.

Adoring saints around Him stand

And thrones and pow­ers be­fore Him fall;

The God shines gra­cious through the man

And sheds sweet glo­ries on them all.

O what amaz­ing joys they feel

While to their gold­en harps they sing

And sit on ev­ery heav’n­ly hill

And spread the tri­umphs of their king!

When shall the day

dear Lord

ap­pear

That I shall mount to dwell above

And stand and bow amongst them there

And view Thy face

and sing

and love?