Old-Line Primitive Baptist Hymn and Tune Book

590 (L.M.) Isaac Watts

Jesus is gone above the skies,

Where our weak senses reach Him not;

And carnal objects court our eyes,

To thrust our Saviour from our thought.

He knows what wand'ring hearts we have,

Apt to forget His lovely face;

And, to refresh our minds, He gave

These kind memorials of His grace.

The Lord of life this table spread

With His own flesh and dying blood;

We on the rich provision feed,

And taste the wine, and bless our God.

Let sinful sweets be all forgot,

And earth grow less in our esteem;

Christ and His love fill ev'ry thought,

And faith and hope be fixed on Him.

While He is absent from our sight,

'Tis to prepare our souls a place;

That we may dwell in heav'nly light,

And live forever near His face.