1 O LORD, of Thee we ne'er would tire;
The new and living food
Can satisfy our heart's desire;
And life is in Thy blood.
2 If such the happy midnight song
Our prisoned spirits raise,
What are the joys that cause, ere long,
Eternal bursts of praise?
3 To look within and see no stain,
Abroad no curse to trace;
To shed no tears, to feel no pain,
But see Thee face to face.
4 To find each hope of glory gained,
Fulfilled each precious word;
And fully all to have attained
The image of our Lord.
5 For this we're pressing onward still;
And in this hope would be
More subject to the Father's will,
E'en now much more like Thee.