And art Thou, gracious Master, gone,
A mansion to prepare for me?
Shall I behold Thee on the throne,
And there for ever sit with Thee?
Then let the world approve or blame,
I’ll triumph in Thy glorious name.
Should I to gain the world’s applause,
Or to escape its harmless frown,
Refuse to countenance Thy cause,
And make Thy people’s lot my own:
What shame would fill me in that day,
When Thou Thy glory wilt display!
And what is man, or what his smile?
The terror of his anger, what?
Like grass he flourishes a while,
But soon his place shall know him not.
Thro’ fear of such a one shall I
The Lord of Heav’n and earth deny?
No! let the world cast out my name,
And vile account me if they will;
If to confess the Lord be shame,
I purpose to be viler still.
For Thee, my God, I all resign,
Content if I can call Thee mine.
What transport then shall fill my heart,
When Thou my worthless name wilt own;
When I shall see Thee as Thou art,
And know as I myself am known!
From sin and fear and sorrow free,
My soul shall find its rest in Thee.