L. M. Joy in hope of immortality.
1 INSPIR'D, O Lord! with hopes divine
We cheerfully the world resign;
We shall behold thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
? This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which we go,
Hath joys substantial and sincere;
When shall we wake and enter there?
3 O glorious hour! O bless'd abode!
We shall be near and like our God!
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of the soul.
4 Our flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in our Saviour's image rise.
C. M. The holiness of the heavenly state.
1 Non eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor sense nor reason known
What joys the Father has prepar'd
For those that love the Son.
2 But the good Spirit of the Lord
Reveals a heav'n to come:
The beams of glory in his word
Invite and guide us home.
3 Pure are the joys above the sky,
And all the region peace;
No scornful tongue, nor envious eye
Can see or taste the bliss.
4 Those holy gates for ever bar
Pollution, sin, and shame;
None shall obtain admittance there
But followers of the Lamb.
5 He keeps the Father's book of life,
There all their names are found;
The hypocrite in vain shall strive
To tread the heav'nly ground.
8. 7. Now, we see through a glass, darkly. 1 Cor. xiii. 12.
1 Now, we see, beyond the portal
Of the grave's brief resting place,
Glimpses of those joys immortal
Which await the heirs of grace.
2 Now, we feel, at times, in sorrow,
Hopes whereon the heart can stay,—
Preludes of a brighter morrow,
Which shall chase our griefs away.
3 Oh! if such the hopes attendant
While by faith we darkly see,
How unspeakably transcendent
Must the full fruition be!
C. M. The Church triumphant, Heb. xii. 23.
1 WHILE on the Church the Saviour's love,
As heav'nly show'rs descends;
Our souls commune with saints above,
In bliss that never ends.
2 We taste the precious streams of grace;
They round the fountain sing:
We travel through the wilderness;
They sit before the King.
3 We pray for grace to hold out well
The conflict but begun;
They of their past engagements tell,
And sing the conquests won.
4 We fight the battles of the Lord,
And are sometimes cast down;
They wield no more the warrior's sword,
But wear the victor's crown.
5 They all were once as vile as we,
And felt the law of sin;
Like us they struggled to be free,
And mourn'd the plague within.
6 And soon shall we, as bright as they,
In glorious freedom shine,
And spend with them an endless day,
Before the throne divine.
7 Then shall we all begin, at home,
One everlasting song:
Till then, bless'd Lord, thy kingdom come!
Nor let the time be long.
C. M. The heavenly Jerusalem. Revelation xxi. 22-26.
1 JERUSALEM! our happy home!
Name to us ever dear!
When shall our labours end, and we
Within thy gates appear!
2 When shall these eyes thy heav'n-built walls,
And pearly gates, behold?
Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?
3 O when, thou city of our God,
Shall we thy courts ascend,
Where congregations ne'er break up,
And Sabbaths never end?
4 There happier bow'rs than Eden's bloom,
Nor sin nor sorrow know:
Bless'd seats! through rude and stormy scenes,
We onward press to you.
5 Why should we shrink at pain and woe,
Or feel, at death, dismay,
With Canaan's goodly land in view,
And realms of endless day?
6 Apostles, martyrs, prophets there,
Around the Saviour stand;
And soon our friends in Christ below,
Will join the glorious band.
7 Jerusalem! our happy home!
Name to us ever dear!
When shall our labours end, and we
Within thy gates appear?
7s. Rest. Job iii. 17.-Heb. iv. 9.
1 HIGH in yonder realms of light,
Far above these lower skies,
Fair and exquisitely bright,
Heav'n's eternal mansions rise.
2 Glad within these bless'd abodes,
Dwell the raptur'd saints above,
Where no anxious care corrodes,
Happy in Immanuel's love.
3 Once, indeed, like us below,
Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
They complain'd of pain and woe,
Gloomy doubts, distressing fears.
4 Now, their days of weeping o'er,
Pass'd this scene of toil and pain,
They shall feel distress no more,
Never, never, weep again!
5 'Mid the chorus of the skies,
'Mid th' angelic lyres above,
Hark! their songs melodious rise,
Songs of praise to Jesus' love.
6 Ev'ry tear is wip'd away,
Sighs no more shall heave the breast ;
Night is lost in endless day-
Sorrow-in eternal rest!
1 SEE the saints in heav'n appearing,
Heav'n that yields them sweet repose;
Nothing wanting, nothing fearing,
Safe from ev'ry storm that blows;
Free from sorrow, sin and fear,
Having all they hop'd for here.
2 All their conflicts now are over,-
All their dangers now no more;
And with joy they now discover
All that lay conceal'd before:
Fill'd with wonder they review
All the perils they pass'd through.
3 Perils past and gone for ever;
O how cheering is the thought!
Once we pass through yonder river,
Then we rest and labour not:
Nothing is to those oppress'd
Grateful as the thought of rest.
4 Rest from toil, and rest from terror;
Rest from all assaults of foes;
Rest from those who loving error,
Hate the Saviour and oppose;
Rest from all that causes grief,
Sweet the hope of such relief.
5 Hope of this our toils can lighten;
Hope has pow'r to cheer the faint;
Hope of this our gloom will brighten;
Hope sustains the trembling saint;
Hope is ours;-then farewell fear;
Hope the darkest hour can cheer.
L. M. The inheritance among the saints in light. Col. i. 12.
1 THERE is a region, lovelier far Than sages tell, or poets sing:
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