1 Descend from heaven, immortal Dove,
Stoop down and take us on thy wings,
And mount and bear us far above
The reach of these inferior things.
2 Beyond, beyond this lower sky,
Up where eternal ages roll,
Where solid pleasures never die,
And fruits immortal feast the soul.
3 O for a sight, a pleasing sight
Of our almighty Father's throne!
There sits our Saviour crown'd with light
Cloth'd in a body like our own.
4 Adoring saints around him stand,
And thrones, and powers before him fall;
The God shines gracious thro' the man,
And sheds sweet glories on them all.
5 O what amazing joys they feel
While to their golden harps they sing,
And sit on every heavenly hill,
And spread the triumphs of their King!
6 When shall the day, dear Lord, appear
That I shall mount to dwell above,
And stand and bow amongst them there,
And view thy face, and sing, and love!