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