Jesus, Thou Joy of loving hearts
Jesus is gone above the skies,
Where our weak senses reach Him not;
And carnal objects court our eyes,
To thrust our Savior from our thought.
He knows what wand’ring hearts we have,
Apt to forget His lovely face;
And, to refresh our minds, He gave
These kind memorials of His grace.
The Lord of life this table spread
With His own flesh and dying blood;
We on the rich provision feed,
And taste the wine, and bless the God.
Let sinful sweets be all forgot,
And earth grow less in our esteem;
Christ and His love fill every thought,
And faith and hope be fixed on Him.
While He is absent from our sight,
’Tis to prepare our souls a place,
That we may dwell in heav’nly light,
And live for ever near His face.
Our eyes look upwards to the hills
Whence our returning Lord shall come;
We wait Thy chariot’s awesome wheels,
To fetch our longing spirits home.
–preacher Isaac Watts (1674-1748 A.D.)
L.M.; to “Quebec” Jesus, Thou Joy of loving hearts
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