#294Bliss of the Pure

O bliss of the purified! bliss of the free! I plunge in the crimson fountain, And though I descend all black to the stream, I rise all spotless from it.

I rise to my native skies, and look down On the storms and the clouds beneath me; I rise to the arms of my Savior above, Who died on the cross to save me.

O glory! the light of the city of God For ever and ever surrounds me; The Lamb is the light of the city above, And glory to God resounds there.

O when shall I sweetly sink into rest In the arms of my dear Redeemer? When shall I see him, and never depart? When shall I sin no more?

When I have done with these conflicts below, When I have done with the tears and the sighing, When I have done with temptations and fears, And done with the sin and the dying.