1 Up to the Fields where Angels lie,
And living Waters gently roll,
Fain would my Thoughts leap out and fly,
But Sin hangs heavy on my Soul.

2 Thy wond'rous Blood, dear dying Christ,
Can make this Load of Guilt remove;
And thou can'st bear me where thou fly'st,
On thy kind Wings, celestial Dove!

3 O might I once mount up and see
The Glories of th' eternal Skies,
What little Things these Worlds would be!
How despicable to my Eyes!

4 Had I a Glance of Thee, my God,
Kingdoms and Men would vanish soon,
Vanish as tho' I saw 'em not,
As a dim Candle dies at Noon.

5 Then they might fight, and rage, and rave,
I should perceive the Noise no more
Than we can hear a shaking Leaf,
While rattling Thunders round us roar.

6 Great All in All, Eternal King,
Let me but view thy lovely Face,
And all my Pow'rs shall bow and sing
Thine endless Grandeur, and thy Grace.