Earth has engrossed my love too long, 'Tis time I lift mine eyes Upward, dear Father, to Thy throne, And to my native skies. There the blest man, my Saviour sits, The God! how bright He shines! And scatters infinite delights On all the happy minds. Seraphs, with elevated strains, Circle the throne around, And move and charm the starry plains With an immortal sound. Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs: Jesus, my love they sing! Jesus the life of both our joys, Sounds sweet from ev'ry string. Hark! how beyond the narrow bounds Of time and space they run, And echo in majestic sounds The Godhead of the Son! And now they sink the lofty tune, And gentler notes they play; And bring the Father's equal down To dwell in humble clay. O sacred beauties of the main, The God resides within: His flesh all pure, without a stain, His soul without a sin. But when to Calvary they turn, Silent their harps abide, Suspended songs, a moment mourn The God that loved and died.