In heav'n my choicest treasure lies, My hopes are placed above the skies; 'Tis Christ the Bright and Morning Star, Draws my affections from afar.

O that my anxious mind were free From this vile tenement of clay, That I might view th' immortal Word, And live and reign with Christ my Lord.

Then should I see, and feel, and know, What 'tis to rest from sin and woe, And all my soul be tuned to sing The praises due to Christ my King.

Hail, blessed time! Lord, bid me come, And enter my celestial home, And drown the sorrows of my breast In seas of unmolested rest.