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Isaac Watts - Hymn 15
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The enjoyment of Christ; or, Delight in worship.

Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone,
Let my religious hours alone:
Fain would my eyes my Savior see;
I wait a visit, Lord, from thee.

My heart grows warm with holy fire,
And kindles with a pure desire:
Come, my dear Jesus, from above,
And feed my soul with heav`nly love.

[The trees of life immortal stand
In fragrant rows at thy right hand;
And in sweet murmurs, by their side,
Rivers of bliss perpetual glide.

Haste, then, but with a smiling face,
And spread the table of thy grace;
Bring down a taste of fruit divine,
And cheer my heart with sacred wine.]

Blest Jesus, what delicious fare!
How sweet thy entertainments are!
Never did angels taste above
Redeeming grace, and dying love.

Hail, great Immanuel, all divine!
In thee thy Father`s glories shine;
Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest one,
That eyes have seen or angels known.
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