When will my sweet release be signed,
To quit this house of clay?
When shall my spirit, unconfined,
To glo­ry wing her way?

O how I loathe this mortal life,
I hate this slavish fear;
I long to end this tedious strife
With sin and sorrow here.

I long to see a smiling God,
In ev­er­last­ing light;
When shall I reach His blest abode,
And gain th’enraptured sight?

My towering thoughts disdain to roll
Amongst these earthly toys;
Jesus is dearer to my soul
Than life with all its joys.

Make haste, my days, fly faster still,
And bring me to the place,
To that delightful, holy hill,
Where Je­sus shows His face.

Why am I chained to earth so long,
Exposed to every snare?
When shall I join the heav’nly throng,
And dwell for ever there?