2 God hath laid up in heav'n for me 3 Nor hath the King of grace decreed 4 Jesus, the Lord, shall guard me safe 5 God is my everlasting aid, 1 HE comes, he comes, the Judge severe; The seventh trumpet speaks him near; The lightnings flash; the thunders roll; He's welcome to the faithful soul. 2 From heav'n angelic voices sound; See the Almighty Jesus crown'd; Girt with omnipotence and grace, And all the saints of the Most High: HYMN CXXI. The promised Land. C. M. 1 FAR from these narrow scenes of night, Unbounded glories rise, And realms of infinite delight, 2 There pain and sickness never come, 3 No cloud those blissful regions know, For sin, the source of mortal woe, M 4 There no alternate night is known, 5 Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine Death and immediate Glory. 1 THERE is a house not made with hands, Eternal and on high: And here my spirit waiting stands 2 Shortly this prison of my clay 3 'Tis he, by his almighty grace, 4. We walk by faith of joys to come; With what glad accents shall I rise, 5 Soon shall I learn th' exalted strains HYMN CXXIV. C. M. A Prospect of Heaven makes Death easy. 1 THERE is a land of pure delight, 2 There everlasting spring abides, 3 But tim'rous mortals start and shrink, 4 O! could we make our doubts remove, Those gloomy doubts that rise, |