From thee, my God, my joys shall rise
by Isaac Watts·1707·Meter 8.6.8.6 (CM)
1
From thee, my God, my joys shall rise,
And run eternal rounds,
Beyond the limits of the skies,
And all created bounds.
2
The holy triumphs of my soul
Shall death itself outbrave,
Leave dull mortality behind,
And fly beyond the grave.
3
There, where my blessed Jesus reigns,
In heav'n's unmeasured space,
I'll spend a long eternity
In pleasure and in praise.
4
Millions of years my wond'ring eyes
Shall o'er thy beauties rove,
And endless ages I'll adore
The glories of thy love.
5
Sweet Jesus, every smile of thine
Shall fresh endearments bring;
And thousand tastes of new delight
From all thy graces spring.
6
Haste, my Beloved, fetch my soul
Up to thy blest abode;
Fly, for my spirit longs to see
My Savior and my God.