Jesus, if still that same thou art, If all thy promises are sure, Set up thy kingdom in my heart, And make me rich, for I am poor, To me be all thy treasures given, The kingdom of an inward heaven. Thou hast pronounced the mourners blest; And lo, for thee I ever mourn: I cannot - no, I will not rest, Till thou, my only rest, return; Till thou, the Prince of Peace, appear, And I receive the Comforter. Where is the blessedness bestowed On all that hunger after thee? I hunger now, I thirst for God; See the poor fainting sinner, see, And satisfy with endless peace, And fill me with thy righteousness. Shine on thy work, disperse the gloom, Light in thy light I then shall see; Say to my soul: 'Thy light is come, Glory divine is risen on thee, Thy warfare's past, thy mourning's o'er; Look up, for thou shalt weep no more!'