I WANT that adorning divine,

Thou, only, my God, canst bestow;

I  want in those beautiful garments to shine,

Which distinguish Thy household below.

I  want, oh, I want to attain

Some likeness, my Savior, to Thee:

That longed-for resemblance once more to regain,

Thy comeliness put upon me.

I  want to be marked for Thine own;

 Thy seal on my forehead to wear;

To receive that “new name” on the mystic white stone,

Which only Thyself canst declare.

I  want so in Thee to abide,

As to bring forth some fruit to Thy praise;

The  branch that Thou prunest, though feeble and dried,

May languish, but never decays.

I  want Thine own hand to unbind

Each tie to terrestrial things,

Too tenderly cherished, too closely entwined,

Where my heart too tenaciously clings.

I  want, by mine aspect serene,

Mine actions and words, to declare

That my treasure is placed in a country unseen,

That my heart and affections are there.

I want, as a traveler, to haste

Straight onward, nor pause on my way.

No forethought or anxious contrivance to waste

my tent, only pitched for a day.

I want (and this sums up my prayer)

To glorify Thee till I die;

Then calmly to yield up my soul to Thy care,

And breathe out in prayer my last sigh.

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