1 Lord at thy temple we appear,
As happy Simeon came,
And hope to meet our Saviour here;
O make our joys the same!
2 With what divine and vast delight
The good old man was fill'd,
When fondly in his wither'd arms
He clasp'd the holy child!
3 |Now I can leave this world,| he cry'd,
|Behold thy servant dies,
|I've seen thy great salvation, Lord,
|And close my peaceful eyes.
4 |This is the light prepar'd to shine
|Upon the Gentile lands,
|Thine Israel's glory, and their hope
|To break their slavish bands.|
5 [Jesus, the vision of thy face
Hath overpowering charms
Scarce shall I feel death's cold embrace
If Christ be in my arms.
6 Then while ye hear my heart-strings break,
How sweet my minutes roll!
A mortal paleness on my cheek,
And glory in my soul.]
