What shall I be, my Lord, when I behold Thee
In awful majesty at God's right hand,
And 'mid th' eternal glories that enfold me,
In strange bewilderment, O Lord, I stand?
What shall I be?--these tears, they dim my sight,
I can not catch the blissful vision right.
What shall I be, Lord, when Thy radiant glory,
As from the grave I rise, encircles me;
When brightly pictured in the light before me,
What eye hath never seen, my eyes shall see?
What shall I be? Ah! blessed and sublime
Is the dim prospect of that glorious time!
What shall I be, when days of grief are ended,
From earthly fetters set for ever free;
When from the harps of saints and angels blended,
I hear the burst of joyful melody?
What shall I be, when, risen from the dead,
Sin, death, and hell I never more shall dread?
What shall I be, when all around are thronging
The loved of earth, where I have come to dwell;
When all is joy and praise--no anxious longing,
No bitter parting, and no sad farewell?
What shall I be? Ah! how the streaming light
Can lend a brightness to this dreary night!
Yes; faith can never know the full salvation,
Which Jesus for His people will prepare;
Then will I wait in peaceful expectation,
Till the Good Shepherd comes to take me there.
My Lord, my God, a blissful end I see,
Though now I know not what I yet shall be!