Sweet is the thought, that I shall know
The man who suffer'd here below,
To manifest his love;
For me, and those whom I love best,
Or here, or with himself at rest,
In the bright realms above!

Not all things else are half so dear
As his delightful presence here;
What must it be on high!
His word as in the churches known,
Falls like a show'r of blessings down,
And makes them shout for joy.

But how must his celestial voice
Make our enraptur'd hearts rejoice,
When, from his glorious throne,
He calls us, to come near his seat,
And we, at his once-pierced feet,
Our diadems cast down!

" Come in, thou blessed, sit by me,
" With my own life I ransom'd thee;"
The Lord to each will say:
Thou now shalt dwell with me at home;
Ye blissful mansions, make him room,
" For ever here to stay."

When Jesus thus invites us in,
How will the heav'nly hosts begin
To shout us welcome home!
Come in! come in! the blissful sound
Will make the crystal walls resound,
For joy that we are come!