1. And Let This Feeble Body Fail
And let it faint and die;
My soul shall quit this mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high;
Shall join the disembodied saints,
And find its long-sought rest,
That only bliss for which it pants,
In the Redeemer's breast.

2. In hope of that immortal crown,
I now the cross sustain;
And gladly wander up and down,
And smile at toil and pain,
I suffer on my threescore years,
Till my Deliv'rer come,
And wipe away His servant's tears,
And take His exile home.

3. O what are all my suff'rings here,
If, Lord, thou count me meet
With that enraptured host t'appear
And worship at thy feet!
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away;
But let me with my Savior reign
In that eternal day.