I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes Unto The Hills.

I am pale with sick desire,     For my heart is far away     From this world's fitful fire     And this world's waning day;     In a dream it overleaps     A world of tedious ills     To where the sunshine sleeps     On the everlasting hills. -     Say the Saints: There Angels ease us     Glorified and white.     They say: We rest in Jesus,     Where is not day or night.     My soul saith: I have sought     For a home that is not gained,     I have spent yet nothing bought,     Have laboured but not attained;     My pride strove to mount and grow,     And hath but dwindled down;     My love sought love, and lo!     Hath not attained its crown. -     Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us,     None languish or recede.     They say: We love our Jesus,     And He loves us indeed.     I cannot rise above,     I cannot rest beneath,     I cannot find out love,     Or escape from death;     Dear hopes and joys gone by     Still mock me with a name;     My best belovd die,     And I cannot die with them. -     Say the Saints: No deaths decrease us,     Where our rest is glorious.     They say: We live in Jesus,     Who once died for us.     O my soul, she beats her wings     And pants to fly away     Up to immortal things     In the heavenly day:     Yet she flags and almost faints;     Can such be meant for me? -     Come and see, say the Saints.     Saith Jesus: Come and see.     Say the Saints: His pleasures please us     Before God and the Lamb.     Come and taste My sweets, saith Jesus:     Be with Me where I am.