MY best-belovèd keeps His throne On hills of light, in worlds unknown; But He descends and shows His face In the fair gardens of His grace.
He has engrossed my warmest love; No earthly charms my soul can move: I have a mansion in His heart, Nor death nor hell shall make us part.
He lifts my soul ere I’m aware, And shows me where His glories are: No earthly poet, sage or scribe This heavenly rapture could describe.
O, may my spirit daily rise On wings of faith above the skies, Till death shall seal my last remove, To dwell for ever with my Love.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748