The Time Is Very Near

The time is ve­ry near

When

Lord

Thou wilt be here;

The signs where­of Thou’st spok­en

Thine ad­vent should be­tok­en

We’ve seen them oft ful­fill­ing

In num­ber be­yond tell­ing.

What shall I do then

Lord?

But rest up­on Thy word

The pro­mise Thou hast giv­en

That Thou wilt come from Heav­en

Me from the grave de­liv­er

And from all woe for ev­er.

Ah! Je­sus Christ

how fair

Wilt be my por­tion there!

The wel­come Thou’lt ad­dress me

Thy glances

how they’ll bless me

When I the earth for­sak­ing

My flight to Thee am tak­ing.

Ah! what will be the word

Thou’lt speak

my Shep­herd Lord!

What will be then Thy greet­ing

Me and my breth­ren meet­ing?

Thy mem­bers Thou wilt own us

And near Thy­self en­throne us.

And in that bless­èd hour

How shall I have the pow’r

Mine eye­lids dry of keep­ing

How tears of joy from weep­ing

Refrain

that flow­ing ov­er

My cheeks

like floods would co­ver?

And what a beau­teous light

Will from Thy face so bright

Beam on me

then in Heav­en

When sight of Thee is giv­en

Thy good­ness then me fill­ing

Joy will my breast be swell­ing.

I’ll see then and ad­ore

Thy body bruis­èd sore

Whereon our faith is found­ed

The prints of nails that wound­ed

Thy hands and feet be greet­ing

Thy gaze with rap­ture meet­ing.

Thou

Lord

alone dost know

The joys so pure that flow

In life’s un­fail­ing riv­er

In para­dise for ev­er

Thou can’st por­tray

and show them:

By faith alone I know them.

What I’ve be­lieved stands sure

Remaineth aye se­cure;

My part the wealth sur­pass­eth

The rich­est here am­ass­eth;

All oth­er wealth de­cay­eth

My por­tion ever stay­eth.

My God

my fair­est part!

How will my bound­ing heart

With joy be ov­er­flow­ing

Praise ev­er­more re­new­ing

When through the door of Heav­en

By Thee is en­trance given?

Thou’lt say

Come

taste and see

Oh! child

be­loved by Me;

Come

taste the gifts so pre­cious

I and my Fa­ther gracious

Have to be­stow—come hi­ther

In plea­sure bask for ev­er.

Alas! thou world so poor!

Of wealth

what is thy store?

Mean is it to be hold­en

Compared with all the gold­en

Crowns and thrones Je­sus plac­eth

For whom He loves and grac­eth.

Here is the an­gels’ home

Blest spir­its hi­ther come;

Here naught is heard but sing­ing

Naught seen but joy up-spring­ing

No cross

no death

no sor­row

No part­ing on the mor­row.

Hold! hold! my sense so weak!

What dost thou think and speak

What’s fa­thom­less

art sound­ing?

What’s mea­sure­less

art bound­ing?

Here must man’s wit be bend­ing

The elo­quent be end­ing.

Lord! I de­light in Thee

Thou ne’er shalt go from me

Thy hand in boun­ty giv­eth

More than my heart con­ceiv­eth

Or I can e’er be count­ing

So high Thy mer­cy’s mount­ing.

How sad

O Lord

am I

Until I from on high

See Thee in glo­ry hi­ther—

Come

Thine own to de­liv­er;

Wert Thou but now re­veal­ing

Thyself! my wish ful­fill­ing!

The time is known to Thee;

It best be­com­eth me

To be pre­pared for go­ing

And all things so be do­ing

That ev­ery moment ev­en

My heart may be in Heav­en.

This grant

Lord

and me bless.

That so Thy truth and grace

May keep me ev­er wak­ing

That Thy day not o’er­tak­ing

Me una­wares

af­fright me

But may

O Lord! de­light me.