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  I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes Unto The Hills  

 

I am pale with sick desire,
    For my heart is far away
From this world's fitful fire
    And this world's waning day;
In a dream it overleaps
    A world of tedious ills
To where the sunshine sleeps
    On the everlasting hills.--
    Say the Saints: There Angels ease us
        Glorified and white.
    They say: We rest in Jesus,
        Where is not day or night.

My soul saith: I have sought
    For a home that is not gained,
I have spent yet nothing bought,
    Have laboured but not attained;
My pride strove to mount and grow,
    And hath but dwindled down;
My love sought love, and lo!
    Hath not attained its crown.--
    Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us,
        None languish or recede.
    They say: We love our Jesus,
        And He loves us indeed.

I cannot rise above,
    I cannot rest beneath,
I cannot find out love,
    Or escape from death;
Dear hopes and joys gone by
    Still mock me with a name;
My best beloved die,
    And I cannot die with them.--
    Say the Saints: No deaths decrease us,
        Where our rest is glorious.
    They say: We live in Jesus,
        Who once died for us.

O my soul, she beats her wings
    And pants to fly away
Up to immortal things
    In the heavenly day:
Yet she flags and almost faints;
    Can such be meant for me?--
Come and see, say the Saints.
    Saith Jesus: Come and see.
    Say the Saints: His pleasures please us
        Before God and the Lamb.
    Come and taste My sweets, saith Jesus:
        Be with Me where I am.

       - Christina G. Rossetti


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