Thyself, Lord Jesus!

I PANT, Lord Jesus, for the day―
The promised day of glory―
When I shall gaze upon the brow
For me once pierced and gory.

Without Thy presence, dearest Lord,
This world’s a desert dreary,
Through which I wander oft distressed,
And sad, and lone, and weary.

I long for this dark night to pass,
This night of sin and sorrow;
Weeping endureth for the night,
Joy cometh on the morrow.

O yes! for, Lord, the sight of
Thee
Dispels all sin forever;
And then, to praise Thee long and loud
Shall be the one endeavor.

No stranger do I wait to see.
But one who knows me fully;
Knows I, of sinners, am most vile,
And He Himself most holy.

‘Tis He whose love is still unquench’d,
Though often grieved and slighted;
No stranger―but the very one
To whom I am united.

O what a heart of tenderness!
What love divine, unfailing!
O’er all my coldness and neglect
Still burning―still prevailing.

O losing Jesus! quickly come,
And fold me to Thy bosom;
Thou art my rest, my joy, my all,
The glory of my heaven!

J. W. T.

Notes on the Book of Revelation.