Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 2025 Edition
418 Rees
Words: Isaac Watts, 1709
Music: Edmund Dumas, 1859. Alto S. M. Denson, 1911
Meter: Common Meter (8,6,8,6)
There is a house not made with hands,
Eternal and on high;
And here my spirit waiting stands,
Till God shall bid it fly.
[chorus]
I long to see my friends again,
And hear them sweetly say:
“Come, weary dove, here is thy home,
Then fold thy wings and stay.”
Shortly this prison of my clay
Must be dissolved and fall;
Then, O my soul, with joy obey
Thy heav’nly Father’s call.
’Tis He, by His almighty grace,
That forms thee fit for heav’n;
And as an earnest of the place
Has His own Spirit giv’n.
Eternal and on high;
And here my spirit waiting stands,
Till God shall bid it fly.
[chorus]
I long to see my friends again,
And hear them sweetly say:
“Come, weary dove, here is thy home,
Then fold thy wings and stay.”
Shortly this prison of my clay
Must be dissolved and fall;
Then, O my soul, with joy obey
Thy heav’nly Father’s call.
’Tis He, by His almighty grace,
That forms thee fit for heav’n;
And as an earnest of the place
Has His own Spirit giv’n.