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C. M.

Breathing after heaven.


Return, O God of love, return;

Earth is a tiresome place:

How long shall we, thy children, mourn

Our absence from thy face?

Let heav'n succeed our painful years,

Let sin and sorrow cease,

And in proportion to our tears

So make our joys increase.

Thy wonders to thy servants show,

Make thy own work complete;

Then shall our souls thy glory know,

And own thy love was great.

Then shall we shine before thy throne

In all thy beauty, Lord;

And the poor service we have done

Meet a Divine reward.

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