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Poem	To Jesus, the crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone; O bear me, ye cherubim, up, And waft me away to His throne! My Saviour, whom absent I love, Whom, not having seen I adore; Whose name is exalted above All glory, dominion, and power; Dissolve thou these bonds that detain My soul from her portion in thee. Ah! strike off this adamant chain, And make me eternally free. When that happy era begins, When arrayed in Thy glories I shine, Nor grieve any more, by my sins, The bosom on which I recline. Oh then shall the veil be removed, And round me Thy brightness be pour'd, I shall meet Him whom absent I loved, Shall see Him whom unseen I adored. And then, never more shall the fears, The trials, temptation, and woes, Which darken this valley of tears, Intrude on my blissful repose. Or, if yet remember'd above, Remembrance no sadness shall raise, They will be but new signs of Thy love, New themes for my wonder and praise. Thus the strokes which from sin and from pain Shall set me eternally free, Will but strengthen and rivet the chain Which binds me, my Saviour, to Thee.
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