1. Still out of the deepest abyss
Of trouble I mournfully cry,
And pine to recover my peace,
To see my Redeemer, and die:
I cannot, I cannot forbear
These passionate longings for home:
O when will my spirit be there?
O when will the messenger come?
2. Thy nature I long to put on,
Thine image on earth to regain,
And then in the grave to lay down
My burden of body and pain:
O Jesus, in pity draw near,
And lull me to sleep on thy breast,
Appear, to my rescue appear,
And gather me into thy rest.
3. To take a poor fugitive in,
The arms of thy mercy display,
And give me to rest from all sin,
And bear me triumphant away;
Away from a world of distress,
Away to the mansions above,
The heaven of seeing thy face,
The heaven of feeling thy love.
English text