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 my Redeemer's breast. In hope of that immortal crown, I now the cross sustain, And gladly wander up and down, And smile at toil and pain.