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 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, 
 
 By HENRY HOYT, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
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 CONTENTS. 
 
 I.— THE GLORIES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Heavenly Jerusalem 9 
 
 Heaven the Home of Love and Beauty 1 1 
 
 A Glance at the Glories of Heaven . . . . . .12 
 
 The Gates of Heaven Ajar 13 
 
 The Lamb the Glory of Heaven 15 
 
 Rest in the Mansions 17 
 
 Heaven and Earth Contrasted 19 
 
 Where is Heaven ? . . . . . . . . . 20 
 
 The Glory of Christ in Heaven 22 
 
 Heaven a Land of Peerless Beauty 23 
 
 The Beauty of Heaven ........ 25 
 
 A Vision of the Glories of Heaven 26 
 
 Heaven a Land of Beauty 28 
 
 The Rapture of Seeing Heaven 29 
 
 Heaven in Prospect . . . 31 
 
 Heaven our Blessed Home . . . . . . -32 
 
 Ah I His Heaven at Last 34 
 
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4 Contents. 
 
 IL—THE WAY TO HEAVEN. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Spotless Robe of Heaven . . . . . . -39 
 
 The Promise of the Heavenly Alausions 40 
 
 An Invitation to seek Heaven 41 
 
 Heavenly Consolation . . 42 
 
 JVaiting for Heaven 43 
 
 Christ the Way to Heav<.)i 44 
 
 The Way to Heaven opened by Jesus Christ . . . . 45 
 
 Our Eternal Home in Heaven 47 
 
 Heaven far Away 48 
 
 Revelatio7i of Heaven by Faith 50 
 
 Unfolding the Gates of Heaven 51 
 
 Meditation of Heaven -53 
 
 The Ransoiyied Spirits calling Us to Heaven . . . . 54 
 
 Prayer for an Abode i)i Heaven 55 
 
 Our Journey to Heaven 57 
 
 III— THE MEETING OF FRIENDS. 
 
 Re-union in Heaven 61 
 
 Joining our Friends in Heaven ...... 62 
 
 Passing on to Heaven 63 
 
 A Voice from Heaven . 65 
 
 Infant Voices singing Praises in Heaven . . . -67 
 
 Children in Heaven 68 
 
 Exchanging Earth for Heaven 69 
 
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 Contents. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Joys of Heaven . ........ 71 
 
 Meeting of Friends in Heaven 73 
 
 Crossing the River into Heaven . . . . . • 74 
 
 IV. — HOLINESS AND REPOSE. 
 
 The Weary in Heaven ........ 79 
 
 No Weeping in Heaven 80 
 
 Rest for the Weary in Heaven ....... 82 
 
 No Sorrow in Heaven ........ 83 
 
 The Sweet Repose of Heaven 84 
 
 Heaven the Dwelling- Place of God 85 
 
 The Serenity of Heaven 87 
 
 And the Name of that City is Rest %% 
 
 Rest in Heaven Alone .92 
 
 The Repose of Heaven ........ 93 
 
 Heavenly Repose our Support in Trouble . . . . -94 
 
 Perfect Rest in Heaven - . . -95 
 
 Heaven free from Sorrow ........ 96 
 
 No Sin in Heaven . . . . . . . . 97 
 
 V.— THE FELICITIES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 The Pure River of Heaven . . . . . . .101 
 
 The Mansions of Heaven . . . . . . . .102 
 
 The Bright Array of Heaven . . . . . . .104 
 
 The Joys of Heaven 105 
 
 A Song of Triumphant Ones in Haven 107 
 
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 Contents. 
 
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 PAGE. 
 
 An Echo of Heaven 109 
 
 No Night in Heaven no 
 
 The Sight of God and Christ in Heaven 112 
 
 The Praises of Heaven . 1 13 
 
 The Music of Heave 71 1 15 
 
 The Redeemed in Heaven . . 117 
 
 The Songs of Heaven 1 18 
 
 Leaving Earthly for Heavenly Splendor . . . . .119 
 The Songs of the Blessed in Heaven . . . . .121 
 
 VL— ASPIRATIONS FOR HEAVEN, 
 
 Longing for Heaveii 125 
 
 At Home with God in Heaven . . . . . .126 
 
 The Beatific Vision of Christ in Heaven . . . .127 
 
 The Blessedness of Heaven 129 
 
 Aspirations for God and Heaven . . . . . .130 
 
 The Wanderer J s Home in Heaven 132 
 
 My Home in Heaven 133 
 
 Panting to behold the Glories of Heaven 135 
 
 The Effulgence of Heaven 137 
 
 Heavenly Conversation .138 
 
 The Dawn of Heaven Breaking 1 40 
 
 Coming Nearer to Heaven 143 
 
 Aspiring for the Joys of Heaven 145 
 
 Praise of the Heavenly Country . . . . . .146 
 
 A Little While \ — then Heaven 148 
 
 Heaven Near 150 
 
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 THE GLORIES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Oh, how beautiful that region, 
 
 And how fair that heavenly legion, 
 Where thus men and angels blend ! 
 
 Glorious will that city be, 
 
 Full of deep tranquillity, 
 Light and peace from end to end. 
 
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 "That Great City, the Holy Jerusalem, descending out of 
 Heaven from God."— Rev. xxi. 10. 
 
 JERUSALEM the golden ! 
 With milk and honey blest, 
 Beneath thy contemplation 
 Sink heart and voice opprest. 
 
 I know not, oh ! I know not 
 
 What joys await us there, — 
 What radiancy of glory, 
 
 What bliss beyond compare. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 They stand, those halls of Sion, 
 
 All jubilant with song, 
 And bright with many an angel, 
 
 And all the martyr-throng. 
 
 The Prince is ever in them ; 
 
 The daylight is serene : 
 The pastures of the blessed 
 
 Are decked in glorious sheen. 
 
 There is the throne of David ; 
 
 And there, from care released, 
 The shout of them that triumph, 
 
 The song of them that feast. 
 
 And they who with their Leader 
 Have conquered in the fight, 
 
 Forever and forever 
 
 Are clad in robes of white. 
 
 Tr. by Rev. John M. Keale. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 1 1 
 
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 'His Rest shall be Glorious." — Isa. xi. 10. 
 
 rilHERE is a glorious land afar, 
 -L Beyond the brightest burning star, 
 
 Where peace interminably reigns ; 
 Where soft and balmy breezes blow, 
 And golden rivers gently flow, 
 
 And gladness smiles o'er all the plains. 
 
 Xo grovelling thought, no treacherous smile, 
 Xo word unkind, no act of guile, 
 
 Will e'er disturb the sacred rest : 
 On every peaceful brow will shine 
 A living beauty all divine, 
 
 And love pervade the sinless breast. 
 
 D. C. COLESWORTHY. — [1S10.] 
 
 Note. — Mr. Colesworthy is the author of the sweet lyric, — 
 " A little word in kindness spoken, 
 
 A motion or a tear. 
 Has often healed the heart that's broken, 
 And made a friend sincere." 
 
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 " On either Side of the River was there the Tree of Life, 
 
 WHICH BARE TWELVE MANNER OF FRUITS." — Rev. XXU. 2. 
 
 ALIGHT streams downward from the sky, 
 An open door the radiance shows, 
 Through which the ransomed spirits fly, 
 To enter bliss no mortal knows. 
 
 Girded with gladness in that home, 
 No soul its sackcloth ever wears ; 
 
 No sickness, griefs, or fears can come, 
 No burdened heart with heavy cares. 
 
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 A tree of life, with pleasant shade, 
 Grows in that upper paradise : 
 
 Renewed from Eden's early glade, 
 Its various fruit each want supplies. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven, 13 
 
 I am weary of loving what passes away : 
 The sweetest, the dearest, alas ! may not stay. 
 I long for that land where these partings are o'er, 
 And death and the tomb can divide hearts no more. 
 
 I am weary, my Saviour, of grieving thy love : 
 Oh ! when shall I rest in thy presence above ? 
 I am weary ; but oh ! let me never repine, 
 While thy word, and thy love, and thy promise are 
 mine. 
 
 Songs in the Night. 
 
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 " The Glory that shall be revealed unto Us. " — Rom. viii. 28. 
 
 BEYOND these chilling winds and gloomy 
 skies, 
 Beyond Death's cloudy portal, 
 There is a land where beauty never dies, 
 And love becomes immortal. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 A land whose light is never dimmed by shade, 
 
 Whose fields are ever vernal ; 
 Where nothing beautiful can ever fade, 
 
 But bloom in life eternal. 
 
 We may not know how sweet its balmy air, 
 
 How bright and fair its flowers : 
 We may not hear the songs that echo there 
 
 Through those enchanted bowers. 
 
 The city's shining towers we may not see 
 
 With our dim earthly vision ; 
 For Death, the silent warder, keeps the key 
 
 That opes those gates elysian. 
 
 But sometimes, when adown the western sky 
 
 The fairy sunset lingers, 
 Its golden gates swing inward noiselessly, 
 
 Unlocked by silent fingers. 
 
 And, while they stand a moment half ajar, 
 
 Gleams from the inner glory 
 Stream brightly through the azure vault afar, 
 
 And half reveal the story. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 15 
 
 O land unknown ! O land of love divine ! 
 
 Father all-wise, eternal, 
 Guide, guide, the wandering, wayworn feet of mine 
 
 Into those pastures vernal. 
 
 Miss Nancy A. W. Priest. 
 
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 "The Lamb is the Light thereof." — Rev. xxi. 23. 
 
 "TT^OR thee, O dear, dear country! 
 -*- Mine eyes their vigils keep ; 
 For very love, beholding 
 
 Thy happy name, they weep. 
 
 The mention of thy glory 
 
 Is unction to the breast, 
 And medicine in sickness, 
 
 And love and life and rest. 
 
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 O one, O only mansion !* 
 
 O paradise of joy ! 
 Where tears are ever banished, 
 
 And smiles have no alloy. 
 
 The Lamb is all thy splendor, 
 The Crucified thy praise : 
 
 His laud and benediction 
 Thy ransomed people raise. 
 
 With jasper glow thy bulwarks, 
 Thy streets with emeralds blaze ; 
 
 The sardius and the topaz 
 Unite in thee their rays. 
 
 Thine ageless walls are bonded 
 With amethyst unpriced ; 
 
 The saints build up its fabric, 
 And the corner-stone is Christ. 
 
 Thou hast no shore, fair ocean ! 
 
 Thou hast no time, bright day ! 
 Dear fountain of refreshment 
 
 To pilgrims far away. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 17 
 
 Upon the Rock of Ages 
 
 They raise thy holy tower : 
 Thine is the victor's laurel, 
 
 And thine the golden dower. 
 
 St. Bernard de Clugny. 
 
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 " In my Father's House are Many Mansions : it it were not sO> 
 I would have told You." — John xiv. 2. 
 
 THERE is a place of sacred rest, 
 Far, far, beyond the skies, 
 Where beauty smiles eternally, 
 And pleasure never dies, — 
 My Father's house, my heavenly home, 
 
 Where " many mansions " stand, 
 Prepared, by hands divine, for all 
 
 Who seek the better land. 
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 1 8 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 When tossed upon the waves of life, 
 
 With fear on every side, — 
 When fiercely howls the gathering storm, 
 
 And foams the angry tide, — 
 Beyond the storm, beyond the gloom, 
 
 Breaks forth the light of morn, 
 Bright beaming from my Father's house, 
 
 To cheer the soul forlorn. 
 
 In that pure home of tearless joy 
 
 Earth's parted friends shall meet, 
 With smiles of love that never fade, 
 
 And blessedness complete. 
 There, there, adieus are sounds unknown : 
 
 Death frowns not on that scene ; 
 But life and glorious beauty shine, 
 
 Untroubled and serene. 
 
 Robert Tdrnbdll. 
 
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 11 Great is your Reward in Heaven." — Matt. v. 13. 
 
 THIS world is all a fleeting show, 
 For man's illusion given. 
 The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, 
 Deceitful shine, deceitful flow : 
 There's nothing true but heaven. 
 
 And false the light on glory's plume 
 
 As fading hues of even ; 
 And love and hope and beauty's bloom 
 Are blossoms gathered for the tomb : 
 
 There's nothing bright but heaven. 
 
 Poor wanderers of a stormy day, 
 
 From wave to wave we're driven ; 
 And fancy's flash, and reason's ray, 
 Serve but to light the troubled way : 
 There's nothing calm but heaven. 
 
 Thomas Moore. — [1780-1852.] 
 
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 •Bye BATS not seen, nob Ear heard, neither have entered 
 into the Heart of Man, the Things which God hath prepared 
 for Them that love Him." — 1 Cor. ii. 9. 
 
 I HEAR thee speak of a better land : 
 Thou call'st its children a happy band. 
 Mother, oh ! where is that radiant shore ? 
 Shall we not seek it, and weep no more ? 
 Is it where the flower of the orange blows, 
 And the fireflies dance through the myrtle 
 boughs ? " 
 
 " Not there, not there, my child ! " 
 
 " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, 
 And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? 
 Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, 
 Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, 
 And strange, bright birds on their starry wings 
 the rich hues of all glorious things ? " 
 " Not there, not there, my child ! " 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 21 
 
 " Is it far away in some region old, 
 Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold, 
 Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, 
 And the diamond lights up the secret mine, 
 And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand? — 
 Is it there, sweet mother ! — that better land ? " 
 " Not there, not there, my child ! " 
 
 " Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ; 
 Ear hath not heard its deep sounds of joy ; 
 Dreams cannot picture a world so fair ; 
 Sorrow and death may not enter there : 
 Time doth not breathe on its deathless bloom ; 
 Beyond the clouds, beyond the tomb, — 
 
 It is there, it is there, my child ! " 
 
 Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans. — [1794-1835.] 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 • I SHALL BE SATISFIED WHEN I AWAKE IN THY LIKENESS." — Ps. vii. 15. 
 
 THERE is a holy city, 
 A happy world above, 
 Beyond the starry regions, 
 
 Built by the God of love, — 
 An everlasting temple ; 
 
 And saints arrayed in white 
 There serve their great Redeemer, 
 And dwell with him in light. 
 
 The meanest child of glory 
 
 Outshines the radiant sun ; 
 But who can speak the splendor 
 
 Of that eternal throne 
 Where Jesus sits exalted, 
 
 In Godlike majesty ? 
 The elders fall before him, 
 
 The angels bend the knee. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 23 
 
 Is this the Man of sorrows, 
 
 Who stood at Pilate's bar, 
 Condemned by haughty Herod, 
 
 And by his men of war ? 
 He seems a mighty conqueror, 
 
 Who spoiled the powers below, 
 And ransomed many captives 
 
 From everlasting woe ! 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
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 " We shall see Him as He is." — 1 John iii. 2. 
 
 THERE'S a land of peerless beauty, 
 And of glory all untold, 
 Where no shadow ever falleth, 
 
 Where no sunny face grows old ; 
 Where the crystal river floweth, 
 With the tree upon its banks, 
 And with love each bosom gloweth 
 In the bright celestial ranks. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Oh ! to reach that land of gladness 
 
 Be it all my soul's desire : 
 Amid scenes of joy or sadness, 
 
 Upward still I would aspire. 
 Brief the pang my heart that rendeth, 
 
 Brief the joy that swells it here ; 
 But the rapture never endeth 
 
 Of that pure and blessed sphere. 
 
 There is Jesus, my Redeemer, 
 
 With the many crowns he wears, 
 And the scars of earthly wounding, — 
 
 Precious tokens which he bears : 
 There the angels, all so glorious, 
 
 On the outer circle stand ; 
 While the souls by faith victorious 
 
 Are a nearer, dearer band. 
 
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 Then while months and years are taking, 
 Like a dream, their flight away, 
 
 If they bring me but the breaking 
 Of the one eternal day, 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 25 
 
 I will not regret their fleetness, 
 
 Nor hold fast to things below : 
 I will only ask a meetness 
 
 For the bliss to which I go. 
 
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 "The Twelve G-ates were Twelve Pearls." — Rev. xxi. 21. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL Zion, built above ; 
 Beautiful city that I love ; 
 Beautiful gates of pearly white ; 
 Beautiful temple, God its light ! 
 He who was slain on Calvary 
 Opens those pearly gates to me. 
 
 Beautiful heaven, where all is light ; 
 Beautiful angels, clothed in white ; 
 Beautiful strains, that never tire ; 
 Beautiful harps, through all the choir ! 
 There shall I join the chorus sweet, 
 Worshipping at the Saviour's feet. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Beautiful crowns on every brow ; 
 Beautiful palms the conquerors show; 
 Beautiful robes the ransomed wear ; 
 Beautiful all who enter there ! 
 Thither I press with eager feet ; 
 There shall my rest be long and sweet. 
 
 Beautiful throne for Christ, our King ; 
 Beautiful songs the angels sing ; 
 Beautiful rest, all wanderings cease ; 
 Beautiful home of perfect peace ! 
 There shall my eyes my Saviour see. 
 Haste to this heavenly home with me. 
 
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 God hath revealed Them unto Us by His Spirit."— 1 Cor. ii. 10. 
 
 BRIGHT glories rush upon my sight, 
 And charm my wondering eyes, — 
 The regions of immortal light, 
 The beauties of the skies. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 27 
 
 All hail ! ye fair, celestial shores, 
 
 Ye lands of endless day : 
 A rich delight your prospect pours, 
 
 And drives my griefs away. 
 
 There's a delightful clearness now ; 
 
 My clouds of doubt are gone : 
 Fled is my former darkness too ; 
 
 My fears are all withdrawn. 
 
 Short is the passage, short the space, 
 
 Between my home and me : 
 There, there behold the radiant place ! 
 
 How near the mansions be ! 
 
 Immortal wonders, boundless things, 
 
 In those dear worlds appear : 
 Prepare me, Lord, to stretch my wings, 
 
 And in those glories share. 
 
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 1 A Land of Rivers of Waters." — Deut. x. 7. 
 
 THERE is a land of pure delight, 
 Where saints immortal reign : 
 Infinite day excludes the night, 
 And pleasures banish pain. 
 
 There everlasting spring abides, 
 And never- withering flowers : 
 
 Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
 This heavenly land from ours. 
 
 Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, 
 Stand dressed in living green : 
 
 So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 
 While Jordan rolled between. 
 
 But timorous mortals start and shrink 
 
 To cross this narrow sea, 
 And linger, shivering, on the brink, 
 
 And fear to launch away. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 29 
 
 Oh ! could we make our doubts remove, — 
 Those gloomy doubts that rise, — 
 
 And see the Canaan that we love 
 With unbeclouded eyes ; — 
 
 Could we but climb where Moses stood, 
 
 And view the landscape o'er, 
 Not Jordan's stream, nor Death's cold flood, 
 
 Should fright us from the shore. 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. — [1674-1748.] 
 
 Dr. Watts wrote this inimitable hymn in early life, in the beautiful 
 town of Southampton, and in a spot, it is said, whence he enjoyed a charm- 
 ing prospect of the Isle of Wight ; to which circumstance allusion seems 
 to be made in the third and fourth stanzas. 
 
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 " The Street of the City was Pure G-old." — Rev. xxi. 21. 
 
 WE speak of the realms of the blessed, 
 That country so bright and so fair ; 
 And oft are its glories confessed : 
 But what must it be to be there ? 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 We speak of its pathways of gold ; 
 
 Its Avails decked with jewels so rare ; 
 Its wonders and pleasures untold : 
 
 But what must it be to be there ? 
 
 We speak of its freedom from sin, 
 From sorrow, temptation, and care ; 
 
 From trials without and within : 
 But what must it be to be there ? 
 
 We speak of its service of love ; 
 
 The robes which the glorified wear ■ 
 The church of the first-born above : 
 
 But what must it be to be there ? 
 
 Do thou, Lord, midst sorrow and woe, 
 Still for heaven my spirit prepare ; 
 
 And shortly I also shall know 
 And feel what it is to be there. 
 
 Elizabeth Mills. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 31 
 
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 'They shall behold the Land that is very far off."- 
 Isa. xxxiii. 17. 
 
 FAR from these narrow scenes of night, 
 Unbounded glories rise, 
 And realms of infinite delight, 
 Unknown to mortal eyes. 
 
 No clouds those blissful regions know, 
 
 Forever bright and fair ; 
 For sin, the source of mortal woe, 
 
 Can never enter there. 
 
 Oh, may the heavenly prospect fire 
 
 Our hearts with ardent love, 
 Till wings of faith and strong desire 
 
 Bear every thought above ! 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine, 
 For thy bright courts on high ; 
 
 Then bid our spirits rise, and join 
 The chorus of the sky. 
 
 Anne Steele. — [1716-1778.] 
 
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 14 At Tnr Right Hand are Pleasures Forevermore." — Ps. xvi. 21. 
 
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 r I THERE is a blessed home, 
 -*- Beyond this land of woe, 
 Where trials never come, 
 
 Nor tears of sorrow flow ; 
 Where faith is lost in sight, 
 
 And patient hope is crowned, 
 And everlasting light 
 
 Its glory throws around. 
 
 There is a land of peace, — 
 Good angels know it well ; 
 
 Glad songs, that never cease, 
 Within its portals swell : 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 35 
 
 Around its glorious throne, 
 
 Ten thousand saints adore 
 Christ with the Father one 
 
 And Spirit evermore. 
 
 Oh joy, all joy beyond, 
 
 To see the Lamb who died, 
 And count each sacred wound 
 
 In hands and feet and side ; 
 To give to him the praise 
 
 Of every triumph won, 
 And sing through endless days 
 
 The great things he hath done ! 
 
 Look up, ye saints of God ! 
 
 Nor fear to tread below 
 The path your Saviour trod 
 
 Of daily toil and woe. 
 Wait but a little while 
 
 In uncomplaining love : 
 His own most gracious smile 
 
 Shall welcome you above. 
 
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 'Ye are complete in Him." — Col. ii. 10. 
 
 A NGEL -VOICES sweetly singing ; 
 -^--^ Echoes through the blue dome ringing, 
 News of wondrous gladness bringing : 
 Ah, 'tis heaven at last ! 
 
 Sin forever left behind us ; 
 Earthly visions cease to blind us ; 
 Fleshly fetters cease to bind us : 
 Ah, 'tis heaven at last ! 
 
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 What a city ! what a glory ! — 
 Par beyond the brightest story 
 Of the ages old and hoary : 
 Ah, 'tis heaven at last ! 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 35 
 
 Christ himself, the living splendor ; 
 Christ the sunlight, mild and tender : 
 Praises to the Lamb we render. 
 Ah, 'tis heaven at last ! 
 
 Rev. John M. Putnam. 
 
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 II. 
 
 THE WAY TO HEAVEN. 
 
 " Come," said Jesus' sacred voice, 
 " Come, and make my paths your choice : 
 I will guide you to your home ; 
 Weary pilgrim, hither come." 
 
 Barbauld. 
 
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 " rcT on Thy Beautiful Garments." — Isa. lii. 1. 
 
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 THE golden palace of my God 
 Towering above the clouds I see, 
 Beyond the cherubs' bright abode, 
 Higher than angels' thoughts can be. 
 
 How can I in those courts appear, 
 Without a wedding-garment on ? 
 
 Conduct me, thou Life-Giver, there, 
 Conduct me to thy glorious throne, 
 
 And clothe me with thy robes of light, 
 
 And lead me through Sin's darksome night, 
 My Saviour and my God ! 
 
 Thomas Moon:: 
 
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 M I GO TO PREPARE A PLACE FOR YOU. — John xiv. 2. 
 
 LET not your hearts be troubled : ye believe 
 In God ; believe also in me, his Son. 
 Doubt not but in the compass of the heavens 
 My Father will provide for all his saints 
 Mansions of peace, seats of eternal bliss, 
 Where spirits made perfect after death shall dwell, 
 And rest from earthly toils : thither I go 
 To seal your sure election, and prepare 
 For you, my faithful servants, an abode, 
 That, as in sorrow here, so there in bliss 
 With me, your Lord, now dying for your sakes, 
 Ye may surmount the grave, and ever live 
 In heavenly communion undisturbed. 
 Lament not, therefore, if I now depart, 
 Your provident Precursor; for ye know 
 Whither I go, and also know the way. 
 
 Richard Cumberland.— [1732-1811.] 
 I .. — The above is taken from his epic poem, Calvary. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 41 
 
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 "Come with Us, and We will do Thee Good. >' —Genesis. 
 
 COME, let us go to heaven : the waj r , 
 Like darkness, opens into day, 
 When, from the turning-point of night, 
 Breaks the first beam of morning light. 
 
 Come, let us go to heaven. Our Guide 
 Is Christ who lived, is Christ who died, 
 And rose again : his staff and rod, 
 Through life and death, will lead to God. 
 
 Come, let us go to heaven ; forsake 
 Sin, earth, and hell ; and gladly take 
 His easy yoke, his pleasant load, 
 And brave the dangers of the road. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Come, let us go to heaven, and meet 
 Once and forever round his feet ; 
 Yea, in Christ's kingdom, as his own, 
 Sit down with him upon his throne. 
 
 James Montgomery. 
 
 Hamuli} Kotwatfttian. 
 
 "I am the Lord that heaeeth Thee.'-' — Exod. xv. 26. 
 
 COME, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish, 
 Come, at the shrine of God, fervently kneel. 
 Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your 
 anguish : 
 Earth hath no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal. 
 
 Joy of the desolate, light of the straying ; 
 
 Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure : 
 Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying, 
 
 Earth hath no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure. 
 
 Thomas Moore. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 43 
 
 Wailing for fwawtt. 
 
 11 Willing rather to be Absent from the Body." — 2 Cor. v. 8. 
 
 rT^HERE is a house not made with hands. 
 -L Eternal, and on high ; 
 And here my spirit waiting stands 
 Till God shall bid it fly. 
 
 Shortly this prison of my clay 
 
 Must be dissolved, and fall : 
 Then, O my soul ! with joy obey 
 
 Thy heavenly Father's call. 
 
 'Tis he, by his almighty grace, 
 
 That forms thee fit for heaven ; 
 And, as an earnest of the place, 
 
 Has his own Spirit given. 
 
 We walk by faith of joys to come ; 
 
 Faith lives upon his word : 
 But, while the body is our home, 
 
 We're absent from the Lord. 
 
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 44 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 'Tis pleasant to believe thy grace ; 
 
 But we had rather see : 
 We would be absent from the flesh, 
 
 And present, Lord, with thee. 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. 
 
 dJmisit t\u ftfay to Qmvtu. 
 
 u By Grace are ye saved through Faith . ,; 
 
 BLESSED city, heavenly Salem, 
 Visions dear of peace and love, 
 Who of living stones art builded 
 In the height of heaven above, 
 And with angel hosts encircled, 
 As a bride to earth dost move. 
 
 From celestial realms descending, 
 Bridal glory round thee shed, 
 
 Meet for Him whose love espoused thee, 
 To thy Lord shalt thou be led : 
 
 All thy streets and all thy bulwarks 
 Of pure gold are fashioned. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 45 
 
 Bright thy gates of pearl are shining, 
 
 They are open evermore ; 
 And by virtue of his merits, 
 
 Thither faithful souls do soar, 
 Who for Christ's dear name in this world 
 
 Pain and tribulation bore. 
 
 Many a blow and biting sculpture 
 
 Polished well those stones elect, 
 In their places now compacted 
 
 By the heavenly Architect, 
 Who therewith hath willed forever 
 
 That his palace should be decked. 
 
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 'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." — John xiv. 6. 
 
 COME, let us lift our joyful eyes 
 Up to the courts above, 
 And smile to see our Father there, 
 Upon a throne of love. 
 
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 So7igs on Heaven. 
 
 Once 'twas a seat of dreadful wrath, 
 
 And shot devouring flame : 
 Our God appeared consuming fire, 
 
 And Vengeance was his name. 
 
 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood 
 That calmed his frowning face, 
 
 That sprinkled o'er the burning throne, 
 And turned the wrath to grace. 
 
 Xow we may bow before his feet, 
 
 And venture near the Lord : 
 Xo fiery cherub guards his seat, 
 
 Nor double-flaming sword. 
 
 The peaceful gates of heavenly bliss 
 
 Are opened by the Son : 
 High let us raise our notes of praise, 
 
 And reach the Almighty throne. 
 
 To thee ten thousand thanks we bring, 
 
 Great Advocate on high : 
 And glory to the eternal King, 
 
 That lays his fury by. 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 47 
 
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 "How Short jhy TrME is! " — Ps. lxxxix. 47. 
 
 TIME is winging us away 
 To our eternal home : 
 Life is but a winter's day, — 
 
 A journey to the tomb. 
 Youth and vigor soon will flee, 
 
 Blooming beauty lose its charms : 
 All that's mortal soon shall be 
 Enclosed in Death's co'd arms. 
 
 Time is winging us away 
 
 To our eternal home : 
 Life is but a winter's day, — 
 
 A journey to the tomb. 
 But the Christian shall enjoy 
 
 Health and beauty soon above ; 
 Far beyond the world's alloy, 
 
 Secure in Jesus' love. 
 
 J. Burton. [1733-1771.] 
 
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 48 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 4 The Land that is very far off." — Isa. xxxii. 17. 
 
 UPON the shore 
 Of Evermore, 
 We sport, like children at their play ; 
 A ad gather shells 
 Where sinks and swells 
 The mighty sea from far away. 
 
 Upon that beach, 
 
 Nor voice nor speech 
 Doth things intelligible say ; 
 
 But through our souls 
 
 A whisper rolls, 
 That comes to us from far away. 
 
 Into our ears 
 The voice of years 
 Comes deeper, deeper, day by day : 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 49 
 
 We stoop to hear, 
 As it draws near, 
 Its awfulness from far away. 
 
 At what it tells, 
 
 We drop the shells 
 We were so full of yesterday ; 
 
 And pick no more 
 
 Upon that shore, 
 But dream of brighter far away. 
 
 And o'er that tide, 
 
 Far out and wide, 
 The yearnings of our souls do stray : 
 
 We long to go, 
 
 We do not know 
 Where it may be, but far away. 
 
 The mighty deep 
 
 Doth slowly creep 
 
 Up on the shore where we did play ; 
 
 The very sand, 
 
 Where Ave did stand 
 
 A moment since, swept far away. 
 4 
 
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 50 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Our playmates all, 
 
 Beyond our call, 
 Are passing hence, as we, too, may, 
 
 Unto that shore 
 
 Of Evermore, 
 Beyond the boundless far away. 
 
 We'll trust the wave, 
 
 And Him to save, 
 Beneath whose feet as marble lay 
 
 The rolling deep ; 
 
 For He can keep 
 Our souls in that dim far away. 
 
 Fraser's Magazine. 
 
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 "The Glory of God did lighten It." — Rev. xxi. 23. 
 
 r I 1HERE is a glorious world on high, 
 -L Resplendent with eternal day : 
 Faith views the blissful prospect nigh, 
 While God's own word reveals the way. 
 
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Songs on Heaven. 51 
 
 There shall the favorites of the Lord 
 
 With never-fading lustre shine ; 
 Surprising honor, vast reward, 
 
 Conferred on man by Love divine. 
 
 The shining firmament shall fade, 
 
 And sparkling stars resign their light ; 
 
 But these shall know no change or shade, 
 Forever fair, forever bright. 
 
 And shall not these cold hearts of ours 
 
 Be kindled at the glorious view ? 
 Come, Lord, awake our active powers, 
 
 Our feeble, dying strength renew. 
 
 Mrs. Anne Steele. 
 
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 ' To die is Gain." —Phil. i. 21. 
 
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 THERE is a land immortal, 
 The beautiful of lands : 
 Beside its ancient portal 
 A silent sentry stands. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 He only can undo it, 
 
 And open wide the door ; 
 
 rials who pass through it 
 
 And ffior.t. 
 
 Are mortals nevermore. 
 
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 Though dark and drear the passage 
 
 That leadeth to the gate, 
 Yet grace comes with the message, 
 
 To souls that watch and wait ; 
 And, at the time appointed, 
 
 A messenger comes down, 
 And leads the Lord's anointed 
 
 From cross to glory's crown. 
 
 Their sighs are lost in singing, 
 
 They're blessed in their tears : 
 Their journey heavenward winging, 
 
 They leave on earth their fears. 
 Death like an angel seemeth : 
 
 " We welcome thee!" they cry. 
 Their face with glory beameth ; 
 
 'Tis life for them to die. 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 53 
 
 Peditatiow of §£»vtu. 
 
 "I will lift up Mine Eyes to the Hills." — Ps. xxi. 1. 
 
 MY thoughts surmount these lower skies, 
 And look within the veil : 
 There springs of endless pleasure rise ; 
 The waters never fail. 
 
 There I behold, with sweet delight, 
 
 The blessed Three in One ; 
 And strong affections fix my sight 
 
 On God's incarnate Son. 
 
 His promise stands forever firm ; 
 
 His grace shall ne'er depart : 
 He binds my name upon his arm, 
 
 And seals it on his heart. 
 
 Light are the pains that Nature brings : 
 
 How short our sorrows are, 
 When, with eternal, future things, 
 
 The present we compare ! 
 
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 ^4 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 I would not be a stranger still 
 To that celestial place, 
 
 Where I forever hope to dwell 
 Near my Redeemer's face. 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. 
 
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 'Come up Hither." — Rev. iv. 1. 
 
 COME up hither, come away," 
 Thus the ransomed spirits sing 
 Here is cloudless, endless day; 
 Here is everlasting spring. 
 
 Come up hither ; come and dwell 
 With the living hosts above : 
 
 Come, and let your bosoms swell 
 With their burning songs of love. 
 
 Come up hither ; come and share 
 In the sacred joys that rise, 
 
 Like an ocean, everywhere 
 
 Through the myriads of the skies. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 55 
 
 Come up hither ; come and shine 
 
 In the robes of spotless white. 
 Palms and harps and crowns are thine : 
 
 Hither, hither, wing your flight. 
 
 Come up hither, hither speed : 
 
 Rest is found in heaven alone. 
 Here is all the wealth you need : 
 
 Come, and make this wealth your own. 
 
 E. H. Xevin. 
 
 §?ntyir tix mx &MU itt Hewitt. 
 
 " They desire a Better Country." — Heb. xii. 2. 
 
 OBE AUTEOUS God ! uncircumscribed treas- 
 ure 
 Of an eternal pleasure : 
 Thy throne is seated far 
 Above the highest star ; 
 Where thou preparest a glorious place, 
 Within the brightness of thy face, 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 For every spirit 
 
 To inherit 
 That builds his hopes upon thy merit, 
 And loves thee with an holy charity. 
 What ravished heart, seraphic tongues or eyes, 
 
 Clear as the morning's rise, 
 
 Can speak or think or see 
 
 That bright eternity, 
 Where the great King's transparent throne 
 Is of an entire jasper-stone ! 
 When thou do^t bind thy jewels up, that day 
 
 Remember us we, pray ! 
 
 That where the beryl lies, 
 
 And the crystal 'bove the skies, 
 There thou may'st appoint us place 
 Within the brightness of thy face ; 
 
 And our soul 
 
 In the scroll 
 Of life and blissfulness enroll, 
 That we may praise thee to eternity. 
 
 Jeremy Taylor. — [1613-1667 ] 
 Note. — From the Golden Grove of this eloquent divine. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 57 
 
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 " He careth for You." — 1 Pet. v. 7. 
 
 WHEN Israel reached their home at last, 
 And 'neath their vines and fig-trees lay, 
 How sweetly, all their perils past, 
 
 Must they have mused upon God's way ! 
 What at the time seemed hard to bear 
 Then could they clearly understand ; 
 And how a Father's love and care 
 
 Each portion of their wanderings planned. 
 
 Thus, if we reach that heavenly place, 
 
 No snare to fear, no wars to wage, 
 Then shall we see how heavenly grace 
 
 Led us throughout our pilgrimage : 
 How needful was each care and cross ; 
 
 How wisely our own way denied ; 
 How mercy shielded us from loss ; 
 
 How right the way, how true the Guide. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 How sweet to understand his way ; 
 
 What now we know not then to know ; 
 And yield the tribute of our praise 
 
 For what mysterious seemed below ! 
 Lord, lead us to that place of rest, 
 
 And from our own fond will defend : 
 Thou knowest what for us is best, 
 
 Who knowest both the way and end. 
 
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 THE MEETING OF FRIENDS IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Oh, with what congratulations 
 Throng thy gates the festive nations ! 
 What the warmth of their embracing ! 
 What the gems thy wall enchasing ! 
 Through that city's streets are wending 
 Holy throngs, their anthems blending. 
 There may I, with myriads glorious, 
 Chant thy praise in psalms victorious. 
 
 59 
 
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 u That They may be One, even as We are One." — John xvii. 22. 
 
 THIS world is bright and fair, we know : 
 The skies are arched in glory ; 
 The stars shine on, the sweet flowers blow, 
 And tell their blessed story. 
 
 But softer than the summer's breath, 
 
 And fairer than its roses, 
 Will be the clime afar when Death 
 
 The pearly gate uncloses, — 
 
 The land where broken ties shall twine, 
 
 And fond hearts will not sever ; 
 Where love's pure light shall brighter shine, 
 
 Forever and forever. 
 
 Albert Laighton. 
 61 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 'Ye are All One is Christ Jesus."— Gal. iii. 28. 
 
 COME, let us join our friends above 
 That have obtained the prize ; 
 And, on the eagle wings of love, 
 
 To joys celestial rise. 
 Let all the saints terrestrial sing 
 
 With those to glory gone ; 
 For all the servants of our King, 
 In earth and heaven, are one. 
 
 ±%r 
 
 One family, we dwell in him ; 
 
 One church above, beneath ; 
 Though now divided by the stream, 
 
 The narrow stream, of death. 
 One army of the living God, 
 
 To his command we bow : 
 Part of his host have crossed the flood, 
 
 And part are crossing now. 
 
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 Son os on Heaven. 63 
 
 Ten thousand to their endless home 
 
 This solemn moment fly ; 
 And we are to the margin come, 
 
 And, in our turn, must die. 
 His militant embodied host, 
 
 With wishful looks we stand, 
 And long to see that happy coast, 
 
 And reach the heavenly land. 
 
 Charles Wesley. — [1708-1788.] 
 
 i»;5$itt()[ flit U §tf»Mtt. 
 
 'There shall be no more Death." — Rev. xxi. 4. 
 
 TIME is a river deep and wide ; 
 And, while along its banks we stray, 
 We see our loved ones o'er its tide 
 
 Sail from our sight away. 
 Where are they sped, — they who return 
 
 No more to glad our longing eyes ? 
 They've passed from life's contracted bourn 
 To land unseen, unknown, that lies 
 Beyond the river. 
 
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 64 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 'Tis hid from view : but we may guess 
 
 How beautiful that realm must be ; 
 For gleamings of its loveliness 
 
 In visions granted oft we see. 
 The very clouds that o'er it throw 
 
 Their veil, unraised for mortal sight, 
 With gold and purple tintings glow, 
 
 Reflected from the glorious light 
 Beyond the river. 
 
 And gentle airs, so sweet, so calm, 
 
 Steal sometimes from the viewless sphere : 
 The mourner feels their breath of balm, 
 
 And soothed sorrow dries the tear. 
 And sometimes listening ear may gain 
 
 Entrancing sound that hither floats, 
 The echo of a distant strain 
 
 Of harps and voices, blending notes, 
 Beyond the river. 
 
 There are our loved ones in their rest : 
 
 They've crossed Time's river ; now no more 
 They heed the bubbles on its breast, 
 Nor feel the storms that sweep its shore. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 65 
 
 But there pure love can live, can last : 
 They look for us their home to share. 
 
 When we, in turn, away have passed, 
 What joyful greetings wait us there, 
 Beyond the river ! 
 
 % ¥ owe from gxmtn. 
 
 "In Thy Light shall We see Light." — Ps. xxxvi. 9. 
 
 I SHINE in the light of God; 
 His image stamps my brow : 
 Though the shadows of death my feet have trod; 
 
 I reign in glory now. 
 No breaking heart is here, 
 
 No keen and thrilling pain ; 
 No wasted cheek, where the frequent tear 
 Hath rolled, and left its stain. 
 
 I have found the joys of heaven ; 
 
 I am one of the angel-band : 
 To my head a crown of gold is given, 
 
 And a harp is in my hand. 
 
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 66 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 I have learned the song they sing 
 
 Whom Jesus hath set free ; 
 And the glorious walls of heaven still ring 
 
 With my new-born melody. 
 
 No sigh, no grief, no pain ; 
 
 Safe in my happy home : 
 My fears all fled, my doubts all slain, 
 
 My hour of triumph come. 
 O friends of my mortal years ! 
 
 The trusted and the true, 
 Ye are walking still through the valley of tears ; 
 
 But I wait to welcome you. 
 
 
 I forget ? Oh, no ! 
 
 For Memory's golden chain 
 Shall bind my heart to the hearts below, 
 
 Till they meet and touch again : 
 Each link is strong and bright ; 
 
 And Love's electric flame 
 Flows freely down, like a river of light, 
 
 To the world from which I came. 
 
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 Songs on Heave?z. 67 
 
 Do you mourn when another star 
 
 Shines out from the glittering sky ? 
 Do you weep when the raging voice of war 
 
 And the storms of conflict die ? 
 Then why should your tears run down, 
 
 And your hearts be sorely riven, 
 For another gem in the Saviour's crown, 
 
 And another soul in heaven ? 
 
 Mnimt Wtm Ringing <gmim i» fmvtn. 
 
 "In Heaven their Angels do always behold the Face of My 
 Father." — Matt, xviii. 10. 
 
 THERE is a glorious world of light 
 Above the starry sky, 
 Where saints departed, clothed in white, 
 Adore the Lord Most High. 
 
 x & x 
 
 And hark ! amid the sacred songs 
 Those heavenly voices raise, 
 
 Ten thousand thousand infant tongues 
 Unite in perfect praise. 
 
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 68 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Those are the hymns that we shall know 
 
 If Jesus we obey : 
 That is the place where we shall go 
 
 If found in wisdom's way. 
 
 Soon will our earthly race be run, 
 
 Our mortal frame decay : 
 Parents and children, one by one, 
 
 Must die, and pass away. 
 
 Great God, impress the serious thought 
 
 This day on every breast, 
 That both the teachers and the taught 
 
 May enter to thy rest. 
 
 Jane Taylor.— [1783-1823.] 
 
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 " Suffer the Little Children to come unto Me, and forbid them 
 not."— Mark x. 14. 
 
 IN the broad fields of heaven, 
 In the immortal bowers, 
 By Life's clear river dwelling, 
 Amid undying flowers, 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 69 
 
 There hosts of beauteous spirits, 
 
 Fair children of the earth, 
 Liuked in bright bands celestial, 
 
 Sing of their human birth. 
 
 They sing of earth and heaven : 
 
 Divinest voices rise 
 To God, their gracious Father, 
 
 Who called them to the sides. 
 They all are there, — in heaven, — 
 
 Safe, safe, and sweetly blest : 
 No cloud of sin can shadow 
 
 Their bright and holy rest. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 $xrttangin0 $artlt Uv fwawu. 
 
 "I would not Live Alway." — Job vii. 10. 
 
 I WOULD not live alway : I ask not to stay 
 Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way : 
 The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here 
 Are enough for life's woes; full enough for its 
 cheer. 
 
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 70 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin, — 
 Temptation without, and corruption within : 
 E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears, 
 And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears. 
 
 I would not live alway : no, welcome the tomb ; 
 Since Jesus has lain there, I dread not its gloom : 
 There sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise 
 To hail him in triumph descending the skies. 
 
 Who, who would live alway, away from his God ; 
 Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, 
 Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright 
 
 plains, 
 And the noontide of glory eternally reigns ; 
 
 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, 
 Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet ; 
 While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, 
 And the smiles of the Lord is the feast of the soul ? 
 
 Dr. William Augustus Muhlenberg. 
 
 Note. — This is the hundred and eighty-seventh hymn in the Episcopal 
 collection, and is drawn from a longer piece first published in 1824. In a 
 letter to me, the author says, — 
 
 " A committee was appointed by the General Convention of the Episco- 
 pal Church, in 1825, to report an addition to the hymns already in use. To 
 
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Songs on Heaven. 71 
 
 this committee, the hymn ' I would not Live Alway,' &c, was offered and 
 rejected. The person who offered it (of course not the author) was deter- 
 mined to have it in the new collection, and persisted with the most influen- 
 tial members of the committee till he succeeded. Some years ago, a print- 
 er (Litchfield, Conn.) maintained that he was the author of the hymn, 
 and induced many people to believe it. He acknowledged that I made the 
 longer piece, which he said was a paraphrase of his original ; and this seemed 
 plausible. ' Authors,' he said, ' don't paraphrase their own writings.' The 
 hymn, as it generally reads, was picked out of the poem by the person who 
 offered it to the committee. The alterations were made by myself. 
 
 " Yours very truly, " W. W. Muhlenberg. 
 
 The Rev. Elias Nason." 
 
 For the music of this beautifully sweet and pathetic hymn, see " The 
 Social Choir," by Charles Kingsley, vol. i. p. 81. 
 
 Mt Kmis of fjcatm 
 
 " Sorrow and Mourning shall flee away." — Isa. li. 11. 
 
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 WHAT songs shall we sing on that evergreen 
 shore 
 Where the blessed in Jesus unite ? 
 " Hymns of praise to the Prince whom the angels 
 adore ; 
 Hymns of praise with seraphic delight." 
 
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 72 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 What robes shall we wear on that evergreen shore 
 
 Where the blessed in harmony sing ? 
 " The robes of the glorified, gleaming all o'er 
 
 With the brightness that shines from the King." 
 
 What flowers shall we cull on that evergreen 
 shore 
 
 Where the blessed in bright raiments rove ? 
 " Red roses and lilies that fade nevermore, 
 
 Breathing bliss through the gardens of love." 
 
 What friends shall we greet on that evergreen 
 shore 
 Where the blessed find blossoms so fair ? 
 " The loved ones of Jesus, who have passed on 
 before, 
 In rapture to welcome us there." 
 
 What home shall we see on that evergreen shore 
 Where the blessed meet those they loved here ? 
 
 " The mansions of beauty, with love-light in store, 
 Where the King wipes away every tear." 
 
 Elias STason. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 73 
 
 luting at gnmU i« fwawtt. 
 
 " Then Face to Face." — 1 Cor. xiii. 12. 
 
 'Sorrowing most of all for the Words which He spake, that 
 
 They should see his Face no more." — Acts xx. 38. 
 
 WHEN shall we meet again, — 
 Meet ne'er to sever ? 
 When will Peace wreathe her chain 
 
 Round us forever ? 
 Our hearts will ne'er repose 
 Safe from each blast that blows, 
 In this dark vale of woes, 
 Never, — no, never ! 
 
 When shall love freely flow 
 
 Pure as Life's river ? 
 When shall sweet friendship glow, 
 
 Changeless forever ? 
 Where joys celestial thrill, 
 Where bliss each heart shall fill, 
 And fears of parting chill 
 
 Never, — no, never ! 
 
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 74 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Up to that world of light 
 Take us, dear Saviour : 
 May we all there unite, 
 
 Happy forever ! 
 Where kindred spirits dwell, 
 There may our music swell, 
 And time our joys dispel 
 Never, — no, never ! 
 
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 "A little While, and Ye shall see Me." — Johnxvi. 16. 
 
 OVER the river they beckon to me, — 
 Loved ones who've crossed to the farther 
 side : 
 The gleam of their snowy robes I see ; 
 But their voices are lost by the dashing tide. 
 There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, 
 And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue : 
 He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, 
 And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 75 
 
 We saw not the angels that met him there ; 
 The gate of the city we could not see. 
 Over the river, over the river, 
 My brother stands waiting to welcome me. 
 
 Over the river the boatman pale 
 
 Carried another, — the household pet: 
 
 Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale, — 
 
 Darling Minnie ! I see her yet ! 
 
 She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, 
 
 And fearlessly entered the phantom-bark : 
 
 We watched it glide from the silver sands, 
 
 And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. 
 
 We know she is safe on the farther side, 
 
 Where all the ransomed and angels be : 
 
 Over the river, the mystic river, 
 
 My childhood's idol is waiting for me. 
 
 For none return from those quiet shores 
 Who cross with the boatman cold and pale : 
 We hear the dip of the golden oars, 
 And catch a gleam of the snowy sail, 
 
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 76 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 And, lo ! they have passed from our yearning 
 
 hearts ; 
 They cross the stream, and are gone for aye : 
 We may not sunder the veil apart 
 That hides from our vision the gates of day. 
 We only know that their barks no more 
 May sail with us o'er Life's stormy sea ; 
 Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore, 
 They watch and beckon and wait for me. 
 
 And I sit, and think, when the sunset's gold 
 Is flushing river and hill and shore, 
 I shall one day stand by the water cold, 
 And list for the sound of the boatman's oar ; 
 I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail ; 
 I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand ; 
 I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale 
 To the better shore of the spirit-land ; 
 I shall know the loved who have gone before : 
 And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, 
 When over the river, the peaceful river, 
 The Angel of Death shall carry me. 
 
 Mrs. Nancy A. W. Wakefield. 
 
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 IV. 
 
 THE HOLINESS AND REPOSE OF HEAVEN. 
 
 1 There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe, 
 But they stand in a region by mortals untrod ; 
 There are rivers of joy, but they roll not below ; 
 There is rest, but it dwells in the presence of God." 
 
 Sir Robert Grant. 
 
 77 
 
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 "His Rest shall be Glorious." — Isa. xi. 10. 
 
 AND is there, Lord, a rest 
 For weary souls designed, 
 Where not a care shall stir the breast, 
 Or sorrow entrance find ? 
 
 Is there a blissful home, 
 
 Where kindred minds shall meet, 
 And live, and love, nor ever roam 
 
 From that serene retreat ? 
 
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 Are there bright, happy fields, 
 
 Where naught that blooms shall die ; 
 Where each new scene fresh pleasure yields, 
 
 And healthful breezes sigh ? 
 
 79 
 
 T* 
 
8o 
 
 4H 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Are there celestial streams, 
 
 Where living waters glide, 
 With murmurs sweet as angel-dreams, 
 
 And flowery banks beside ? 
 
 Forever blessed they 
 
 Whose joyful feet shall stand, 
 While endless ages waste away, 
 
 Amid that glorious land. 
 
 My soul would thither tend, 
 
 While toilsome years are given : 
 Then let me, gracious God, ascend 
 
 To sweet repose in heaven. 
 
 Ray Palmer, D.D. 
 
 $to Wttpnq i» f«»M«. 
 
 "God shall wipe away all Tears from Their Eyes."- 
 Rev. vii. 17. 
 
 OH, what a mighty change 
 Shall Jesus' sufferers know ! 
 While o'er the happy plains we range, 
 Incapable of woe. 
 
 -£H 
 
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*-$ $-* 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 81 
 
 No ill-requited love 
 
 Shall there our spirits wound ; 
 No base ingratitude above, 
 
 No sin in heaven is found. 
 
 Nor slightest touch of pain, 
 
 Nor sorrow's least alloy, 
 Can violate our rest, or stain 
 
 Our purity of joy. 
 In that eternal day 
 
 No clouds nor tempests rise : 
 There gushing tears are wiped away 
 
 Forever from our eyes. 
 
 This languishing desire 
 
 Which now for heaven we feel 
 Shall there delightfully expire 
 
 In joy ineffable. 
 The weight of glorious bliss 
 
 That to our share shall fall, 
 Not angel-tongue can half express ; 
 
 But we shall have it all. 
 
 6 Charles Wesley. 
 
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 82 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 f^t for tftr Weary i» gmvm. 
 
 'For We which have believed do enter into Rest."— Heb. iv. 3. 
 
 IN the Christian's home in glory, 
 There remains a place of rest : 
 There my Saviour's gone before me, 
 To fulfil my soul's request. 
 
 There is rest for the weary, 
 There is rest for the weary. 
 On the other side of Jordan, 
 In the sweet fields of Eden, 
 Where the tree of life is blooming, 
 There is rest for you. 
 
 T 
 
 He is fitting up my mansion, 
 Which eternally shall stand ; 
 
 For my stay shall not be transient 
 In that holy, happy land. 
 There is rest, &c. 
 
 t 
 
Songs on Heaven. 83 
 
 Death itself shall then be vanquished, 
 And his sting shall be withdrawn. 
 
 Shout for gladness, O ye ransomed ! 
 
 Hail with joy the rising morn ! 
 
 There is rest, &c. 
 
 Sing, oh, sing, ye heirs of glory ! 
 
 Shout your triumphs as you go : 
 Zion's gates will open for you ; 
 
 You shall find an entrance through. 
 There is rest, &c. 
 
 §Xa borrow \\\ Ifctavtti. 
 
 "Neither shall there be any more Pain."— Rev. xxi. 4. 
 
 f O ! the seal of death is breaking ; 
 J— « Those who slept its sleep are waking : 
 
 Heaven opes its portals fair. 
 Hark ! the harps of God are ringing ; 
 Hark ! the seraph's hymn is flinging 
 
 Music on immortal air. 
 
 ■H& [L 
 
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 84 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 There, no more at eve declining, 
 Suns without a cloud are shining 
 
 O'er the land of life and love : 
 There the founts of life are flowing ; 
 Flowers unknown to time are blowing 
 
 In that radiant scene above. 
 
 There no sigh of memory swelleth ; 
 There no tear of misery welleth : 
 
 Hearts will bleed or break no more. 
 Past is all the cold world's scorning ; 
 Gone the night, and broke the morning 
 
 Over all the golden shore ! 
 
 Congregational Hymn Book. 
 
 
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 "They that sow in Tears shall reap in Joy."— Ps. cxxvi. 15 
 
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 nHHERE is an hour of hallowed peace 
 -L For those with cares oppressed, 
 When sighs and sorrowing tears shall cease, 
 And all be hushed to rest. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 85 
 
 'Tis then the soul is freed from fears 
 
 And doubts that here annoy : 
 Then they that oft have sown in tears 
 
 Shall reap again in joy. 
 
 There is a home of sweet repose, 
 
 Where storms assail no more : 
 The stream of endless pleasure flows 
 
 On that celestial shore. 
 
 There smiling peace with love appears, 
 
 And bliss without alloy ; 
 There they that once have sown in tears 
 
 Now reap eternal joy. 
 
 William B. Tappan. 
 
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 "God shall wipe away all Tears from TnEiR Eyes." 
 Rev. xxi. 4. 
 
 THERE is a region lovelier far 
 Than sages tell or poets sing, 
 Brighter than noonday glories are, 
 And softer than the tints of spring. 
 
 4. 
 
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 86 
 
 + 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 It is not fanned by summer's gale, 
 'Tis not refreshed by vernal showers ; 
 
 It never needs the moonbeam pale, 
 
 For there are known no evening hours. 
 
 No ; for that world is ever bright 
 With purest radiance all its own : 
 
 The streams of uncreated light 
 
 Flow round it from the eternal throne. 
 
 It is all holy and serene, 
 
 The land of glory and repose : 
 No cloud obscures the radiant scene ; 
 
 There not a tear of sorrow flows. 
 
 In vain the philosophic eye 
 
 May seek to view the fair abode, 
 
 Or find it in the curtained sky : 
 It is the dwelling-place of God. 
 
 Miss Tuck.— [Of Frome, Eng ] 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 87 
 
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 'The Hope Which is laid up for You in Heaven." — Col. i. 5. 
 
 THERE is an hour of peaceful rest 
 To mourning wanderers given ; 
 There is a joy for souls distressed, 
 A balm for every wounded breast : 
 'Tis found above, in heaven. 
 
 There is a home for weary souls 
 
 By sin and sorrow driven, 
 When tossed on Life's tempestuous shoals, 
 Where storms arise and ocean rolls, 
 
 And all is drear : 'tis heaven. 
 
 There Faith lifts up her cheerful eye 
 
 To brighter prospects given, 
 And views the tempest passing by, 
 The evening shadows quickly fly, 
 
 And all serene in heaven. 
 
 t 
 
«-*- 
 
 88 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 There fragrant flowers immortal bloom, 
 
 And joys supreme are given ; 
 There rays divine disperse the gloom : 
 Beyond the confines of the tomb 
 
 Appears the dawn of heaven. 
 
 William B. Tappan. 
 
 Note. — The author of this beautiful lyric died at G-rantville, Mass., in 
 1849, aged fifty-six years. 
 
 His last words were, "Pm going; my sight is gone: wife, daughter, 
 farewell. Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." He was an earnest Christian, 
 and has found that " peaceful rest" he so beautifully sang. His remains 
 repose in Forest Hill-Cemetery. I give this poem as he wrote it, but with 
 one stanza omitted. 
 
 &M m %%w at tlmt $ity to §e$t 
 
 O 
 
 BIRDS from out the East ! O birds from out 
 the West ! 
 Have ye found that happy city in all your quest ? 
 Tell me, tell me, from earth's wanderings may the 
 
 heart find glad surcease ? 
 Can ye show me, as an earnest, any olive-branch 
 of peace ? 
 
 *f : &-* 
 
H* — - ■ — & 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 89 
 
 I am weary of Life's troubles, of its sin, and toil, 
 
 and care : 
 I am faithless, crushing in my heart so many a 
 
 fruitless prayer. 
 birds from out the East ! O birds from out the 
 
 West! 
 Can ye tell me of that city, the name of which is 
 
 Rest? 
 
 Say, doth a dreamy atmosphere that blessed city 
 
 crown ? 
 Are there couches spread for sleeping, softer than 
 
 the eider-down ? 
 Does the silver sound of waters, falling 'twixt its 
 
 marble walls, 
 Hush its solemn silence even into stiller intervals ? 
 Doth the poppy shed its influence there, or doth 
 
 the fabled moly, 
 With its leafy-laden Lethe, lade the eyes with 
 
 slumber holy ? 
 Do they never wake to sorrow, who, after toilsome 
 
 quest, [Rest ? 
 
 Have entered in that city, the name of which is 
 
 4 J- 
 
4- 
 
 go 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Doth the fancy wile not there for aye ? Is the 
 
 restless soul's endeavor 
 Hushed in a rhythm of solemn calm forever and 
 
 forever ? 
 Are human natures satisfied of their intense desire ? 
 Is there no more good beyond to seek, or do they 
 
 not aspire ? 
 But weary, weary of the ore within its yellow sun, 
 Do the} 7 lie, and eat its lotus-leaves, and dream 
 
 Life's toil is done ? 
 Oh ! tell me, do they there forget what here hath 
 
 made them blest ?. 
 Nor sigh again for home and friends in the city 
 
 named Rest ? 
 
 O little birds! fly East again; O little birds! fly 
 
 West : 
 Ye have found no happy city in all your weary 
 
 quest. 
 Still shall ye find no spot of rest wherever ye may 
 
 stray ! 
 And still, like you, the weary soul must wing its 
 
 weary way. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 91 
 
 There sleepetli no such city within the wide earth's 
 bound, 
 
 Nor hath the dreaming fancy yet its blissful por- 
 tals found : 
 
 We are but children, crying here upon a mother's 
 breast [rest. 
 
 For life and peace and blessedness, and for eternal 
 
 Blessed God, I hear a still, small voice above Life's 
 clamorous din, 
 
 Saying, " Faint not, thou weary one, thou yet 
 may'st enter in : " 
 
 That city is prepared for those who well do win 
 the fight, 
 
 Who tread the wine-press till its blood hath 
 washed their garments white. 
 
 Within it is no darkness, nor any baleful flower 
 
 Shall there oppress thy weeping eyes with stupe- 
 fying power. 
 
 It lieth calm within the light of God's peace-giv- 
 ing breast : 
 
 Its walls are called Salvation ; the city's name is 
 
 -K^St. Hymns of the Ages. 
 
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 92 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 This is not Your Rest." — Micah ii. 10. 
 
 M 
 
 Y home is in heaven, my rest is not here : 
 Then why should I murmur when trials 
 
 appear ? 
 Be hushed, my dark spirit : the worst that can come 
 But shortens thy journey, and hastens thee home. 
 
 It is not for thee to be seeking thy bliss, 
 And building thy hopes, in a region like this : 
 I look for a city which hands have not piled ; 
 I pant for a country by sin undefiled. 
 
 The thorn and the thistle around me may grow : 
 I would not recline upon roses below. 
 I ask not my portion, I seek not my rest, 
 Till I find Ihem forever on Jesus's breast. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. — [1793-1847.] 
 +$ &H 
 
Songs on Heaven. 93 
 
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 1 Oh, had I Wings like a Dove I " — Ps. lvi. 6. 
 
 OH, had I, my Saviour, the wings of a dove, 
 How soon would I soar to thy presence 
 above ! 
 How soon would I flee where the weary have rest, 
 And hide all my cares in thy sheltering breast ! 
 
 Ah ! there the wild tempest forever shall cease : 
 No billow shall ruffle that haven of peace. 
 Temptation and trouble alike shall depart, — 
 All tears from the eye, and all sin from the heart. 
 
 Soon, soon, may this Eden of promise be mine ! 
 Rise, bright Sun of glory, no more to decline ! 
 Thy light, yet unrisen, the wilderness cheers : 
 Oh ! what will it be when the fulness appears ? 
 
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 94 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 %mtn\n %inm mx gtxwmtt in fftvanftl*. 
 
 'We glory in Tribulations."— Rom. v. 3. 
 
 WHEN I can read my title clear 
 To mansions in the skies, 
 I'll bid farewell to every fear, 
 And wipe my weeping eyes. 
 
 Should earth against my soul engage, 
 
 And hellish darts be hurled, 
 Then I can smile at Satan's rage, 
 
 And face a frowning world. 
 
 Let cares like a wild deluge come, 
 
 And storms of sorrow fall : 
 May I but safely reach my home, 
 
 My God, my heaven, my all ! 
 
 There shall I bathe my weary soul 
 
 In seas of heavenly rest, 
 And not a wave of trouble roll 
 
 Across my peaceful breast. 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 95 
 
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 "There the Weary be at Rest."— Job xxxi. 17. 
 
 EEST for the toiling hand, 
 Rest for the anxious brow, 
 Rest for the weary, way-worn feet, 
 Rest from all labor now. 
 
 Rest for the fevered brain, 
 
 Rest for the throbbing eye : 
 Through these parched lips of thine, no more 
 
 Shall pass the moan or sigh. 
 
 Soon shall the trump of God 
 
 Give out the welcome sound 
 That shakes thy silent chamber- walls, 
 
 And breaks the turf-sealed ground. 
 
 Ye dwellers in the dust, 
 
 Awake ! come forth and sing ! 
 Sharp has your frost of winter been, 
 
 But bright shall be your spring. 
 
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 96 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 'Twas sown in weakness here ; 
 
 'Twill then be raised in power : 
 That which was sown an earthly seed 
 
 Shall rise a heavenly flower. 
 
 HORATIUS BONAR. — [1810.] 
 
 g*»Mtt ivtt ivm gotxow. 
 
 "Tins Mortal must put on Immortality." —1 Cor. xv. 
 
 IVTO sickness there, 
 
 -L-^l No weary wasting of the frame away, 
 No fearful shrinking from the midnight air, 
 No dread of summer's bright and fervid ray. 
 
 No hidden grief, 
 
 No wild and cheerless vision of despair, 
 No vain petition for a swift relief, 
 
 No tearful eye, no broken hearts, are there. 
 
 Care has no home 
 
 Within that realm of ceaseless praise and song : 
 Its tossing billows break, and melt in foam, 
 
 Far from the mansions of the spirit-throng. 
 
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Songs on Heaven, 97 
 
 No parted friends 
 
 O'er mournful recollections have to weep : 
 Xo bed of death enduring Love attends, 
 
 To watch the coming of a pulseless sleep. 
 
 Let us depart, 
 
 If home like this await the weary soul. 
 Look up, thou stricken one : thy wounded heart 
 
 Shall bleed no more at sorrow's, stern control. 
 
 With faith our guide, 
 
 White-robed and innocent, to trace the way, 
 Why fear to plunge in Jordan's rolling tide, 
 
 And find the ocean of eternal day? 
 
 T 
 
 §0 £in in geaven. 
 
 "There shael be no more Ccrse." — Rev. xxii. 3. 
 
 THIS is not my place of resting : 
 Mine's a city yet to come. 
 Onward to it I am hasting, — 
 On to my eternal home. 
 
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 98 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 In it all is light and glory ; 
 
 O'er it shines a nightless day : 
 Every trace of sin's sad stoiy, 
 
 All the curse, hath passed away. 
 
 There the Lamb, our Shepherd, leads us 
 
 By the streams of life along 9 
 On the freshest pastures feeds us, 
 Turns our sighing into song. 
 
 Soon we pass this desert dreary ; 
 
 Soon we bid farewell to pain, 
 Never more are sad or weary, 
 
 Never, never sin again. 
 
 Dr. Horatius Bonar, of Kelso, Scotland. 
 
 -SH 
 
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 THE FELICITIES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 1 The favored of their Judge in triumph move 
 To take possession of their thrones above ; 
 To crop the roses of immortal youth, 
 And drink the fountain-head of sacred truth ; 
 To swim in seas of bliss ; to strike the string, 
 And lift the voice, to their almighty King ; 
 To lose eternity in grateful lays, 
 And fill heaven's wide circumference with praise." 
 Edward Young. 
 [" The Las' Day," Book III.] 
 
 99 
 
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 He showed Me a Pure River of Water of Life, Clear as Crys- 
 tal."— Rev. xxii. 1. 
 
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 THERE is a stream which issues forth 
 From God's eternal throne, 
 And from the Lamb a living stream, 
 
 Clear as the crystal stone. 
 This stream doth water Paradise : 
 
 It makes the angels sing. 
 One cordial drop revives my heart, 
 Hence all my joys do spring. 
 
 Such joys as are unspeakable, 
 
 And full of glory too ; 
 Such hidden manna, hidden pearls, 
 
 As worldlings do not know. 
 
 101 
 
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 102 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 -SiH 
 
 Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard, 
 
 From fancy 'tis concealed, 
 What thou, Lord, hast laid up for thine, 
 
 And hast to me revealed. 
 
 I see thy face, I hear thy voice, 
 
 I taste thy richest love ; 
 My soul doth leap : but oh for wings, — 
 
 The wings of Noah's dove ! 
 Then would I flee far hence away, 
 
 Leaving this world of sin ; 
 Then would my Lord put forth his hand, 
 
 And kindly take me in. 
 
 Bible Hymn-Book. 
 
 ©to spwisiflttisi at gtftvtn. 
 
 "In My Father's House are Many Mansions. "—John xiv. 2. 
 
 HIGH in yonder realms of light, 
 Far above these lower sides, 
 Fair and exquisitely bright, 
 
 Heaven's unfading mansions rise. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 103 
 
 Glad within these blest abodes 
 Dwell the raptured saints above, 
 
 Where no anxious care corrodes, 
 Happy in Immanuel's love. 
 
 Once, indeed, like us below, 
 
 Pilgrims in this vale of tears, 
 Torturing pain and heavy woe, 
 
 Gloomy doubts, distressing fears : 
 These, alas ! full well they knew, 
 
 Sad companions of their way ; 
 Oft on them the tempest blew 
 
 Through the long and cheerless day. 
 
 Oft their vileness they deplored, — 
 
 Wills perverse and hearts untrue ; 
 Grieved they had not loved the Lord, — 
 
 Loved as they had wished to do : 
 But these days of weeping o'er, 
 
 Past this scene of toil and pain, 
 They shall feel distress no more, 
 
 Never, never weep again. 
 
 Dr. Thomas Raffles. — [1783.] 
 
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 104 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 %\m §rigtot %xxw& t>i Qmvtn. 
 
 ' What are These which are arrayed in White Robes ? " - 
 Rev. vii. 13. 
 
 WHAT are these in bright array ? - 
 This innumerable throng, 
 Round the altar, night and day 
 
 Hymning their triumphant song, — 
 " Worthy is the Lamb once slain, 
 Blessings, honor, glory, power, 
 Wisdom, riches, to obtain 
 New dominion every hour " ? 
 
 These through fiery trials trod ; 
 
 These from great affliction came : 
 Now before the throne of God, 
 
 Sealed with his almighty name, 
 Clad in raiment pure and white, 
 
 Victor palms in every hand, 
 Through their great Redeemer's might 
 
 More than conquerors they stand. 
 
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Songs on Heaven. 105 
 
 Hunger, thirst, disease, unknown, 
 
 On immortal fruits they feed : 
 Them the Lamb amid the throne 
 
 Shall to living fountains lead. 
 Joy and gladness banish sighs ; 
 
 Perfect love dispels their fears : 
 And forever from their eyes 
 
 God shall wipe away their tears. 
 
 James Montgomery. 
 
 %\kt IfmjjS ai §wMtt. 
 
 " They sung as it were a New Song." — Rev. xiv. 3. 
 
 ANGEL choirs on high are singing, 
 To the Lord their praises bringing, 
 Yielding him in royal beauty 
 Heart and voice, in love and duty ; 
 Waving wings the throne surrounding, 
 Timbrels, harps, and bells are sounding. 
 See their heavenly vestments glisten ; 
 To their heavenly music listen : 
 
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 1 06 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Hear them, by the Godhead staying, 
 Holy, holy, holy, saying. 
 
 None that grieveth or complaineth 
 In that heavenly land remaineth : 
 Every voice, in concord joining, 
 Holy praise to God combining. 
 Holy love their minds disposeth ; 
 Heavenly light to all discloseth 
 Blessed Three in God united. 
 Seraphs worshipping delighted, 
 Sweet affection overflowing ; 
 Cherubim their reverence showing, 
 Bowing low, their pinions folding, 
 God's majestic throne beholding. 
 
 Oh, what fair and heavenly region ! 
 Oh, what bright and glorious legion ! 
 Saints and angels all excelling, 
 In that glorious city dwelling, 
 Which in rest divine reposeth, 
 And sweet light and peace discloseth. 
 Every one who there resideth 
 Clad in purity abideth ; 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 107 
 
 Charity their spirits joining, 
 Firm in unity combining ; 
 Toil nor ignorance undergoing, 
 Trouble nor temptation knowing ; 
 Always health and joy undying 
 To them every good supplying. 
 
 Thomas A Kempis. — [1380-1471.] 
 
 Note. — From the Latin, — 
 
 " Astant angelorum chori, 
 Laudes cantant Creator!, 
 Regem cernunt in decore, 
 Amant corde, laudant ore," &c. 
 of the celebrated Thomas a Kempis, author of the "Imitation of Christ.'- 
 and translated by Erastus C. Benedict. — See " Mediaeval Hymns," p. 122. 
 
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 ' These are They which came out of Great Tribulation, and 
 have washed Their Robes." — Rev. vii. 14. 
 
 LO ! round the throne, at God's right hand, 
 The saints in countless myriads stand, 
 Of every tongue, redeemed to God, 
 Arrayed in garments washed in blood. 
 
 T 
 
 -?iH 
 
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 1 08 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Through tribulation great they came ; 
 They bore the cross, despised the shame : 
 From all their labors now they rest, 
 In God's eternal glory blest. 
 
 Hunger and thirst they feel no more ; 
 Nor sin nor pain nor death deplore : 
 The tears are wiped from every eye, 
 And sorrow yields to endless joy. 
 
 They see their Saviour face to face, 
 And sing the triumphs of his grace : 
 Him day and night they ceaseless praise, 
 To him their loud hosannahs raise, — 
 
 " Worthy the Lamb, for sinners slain," 
 Through endless years to live and reign ; 
 Thou hast redeemed us by thy blood, 
 And made us kings and priests to God. 
 
 Congregational Hymn Book. 
 
 *4s *-f 
 
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 $4 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 109 
 
 %\k ®rtta of grown. 
 
 'The Lamb is the Light thereof." — Rev. xxi. 23. 
 
 
 
 H ! who will show me those delights on high ? 
 Echo. — I. 
 Thou, Echo ? Thou art mortal, all men know. 
 
 Echo. — No. 
 Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves ? 
 
 Echo. — Leaves. 
 And are there any leaves that still abide ? 
 
 Echo. — Bide. 
 What leaves are they? Impart the matter wholly. 
 
 Echo. — Holy. 
 Are holy leaves the echo, then, of bliss ? 
 
 Echo. — Yes. 
 Then tell me, what is that supreme delight? 
 
 Echo. — Light. 
 Light to the mind : what shall the will enjoy? 
 
 Echo. — Joy. 
 
 **■ 
 
 4 
 
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 no Songs on Heaven. 
 
 But are there cares and business with the pleasure ? 
 
 Echo. — Leisure. 
 Light, joy, and leisure ! but shall they persevere ? 
 
 Echo. — Ever. 
 
 George Herbert. — [1593-1632.] 
 
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 "There shall be no Night there." — Rev. xxi. 25. 
 
 HERE there is darkness, 
 Here there is gloom, 
 Sorrow and sighing, 
 
 Death and the tomb. 
 There ever reigneth 
 
 Day without night : 
 Grief cannot enter ; 
 Death cannot blight. 
 
 A o A 
 
 No night of weariness, 
 No night of sin ; 
 
 How my soul longeth 
 That day to begin ! 
 
 T 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 1 1 1 
 
 Day everlasting, 
 
 God is its light ; 
 Glory eternal 
 
 Beams on the night. 
 
 Joyous activity, 
 
 Needing no rest ; 
 Holy affections 
 
 Filling the breast : 
 Voices harmonious, 
 
 Song ever new, 
 Giving Him glory 
 
 To whom it is due ! 
 
 To living fountains, 
 
 Led by the Lamb, 
 Alpha, Omega, 
 
 The boundless I Am. 
 On his face gazing, 
 
 Tearless for aye : 
 How my heart boundeth 
 
 At thought of that day ! 
 
 Christian Intelligencer. 
 
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 112 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 %\xt $\%\\\ of #od m& $tmsit in fjtowtt. 
 
 'Thine Eyes shall see the King in his Beauty."— Isa. xxxiii. 17. 
 
 DESCEND from heaven, immortal Dove ; 
 Stoop down, and take us on thy wings, 
 And mount, and bear us far above 
 The reach of these inferior things, — 
 
 Beyond, beyond this lower sky, 
 
 Up where eternal ages roll, 
 Where solid pleasures never die, 
 
 And fruits immortal feast the soul. 
 
 Oh for a sight, a pleasant sight, 
 
 Of our Almighty Father's throne ! 
 There sits our Saviour, crowned with light, 
 
 Clothed in a body like our own. 
 
 Adoring saints around him stand, 
 
 And thrones and powers before him fall : 
 
 The God shines gracious through the man, 
 And sheds sweet glories on them all. 
 
 *■& — ■ 1 *-* 
 
Songs on Heaven. 1 1 3 
 
 Oh, what amazing joys they feel, 
 
 While to their golden harps they sing, 
 
 And sit on every heavenly hill, 
 
 And spread the triumphs of their King ! 
 
 When shall the day, dear Lord, appear, 
 That I shall mount to dwell above, % 
 
 And stand and bow amongst them there, 
 And view thy face, and sing, and love ? 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. 
 
 Note. — This is one of the sublimest of the inspirations of the prince of 
 sacred lyric poetry. 
 
 Hl- 
 
 ©1« <B,KM$t8 at <&mvm. 
 
 "Alleluia! Salvation and Glory and Honor and Power unto 
 the Lord our God."— Rev. xix. 1. 
 
 LIGHT'S abode, celestial Salem, 
 Vision whence true peace doth spring, 
 Brighter than the heart can fancy, 
 
 Mansion of the highest King : 
 Oh, how glorious are the praises 
 Which of thee the prophets sing ! 
 
 T* 
 
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 114 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 4* 
 
 There forever and forever 
 
 Alleluia is outpoured ; 
 For unending, for unbroken, 
 
 Is the feast-day of the Lord : 
 All is pure, and all is holy, 
 
 That within thy walls is stored. 
 
 There no cloud nor passing vapor 
 Dims the brightness of the air : 
 
 Endless noonday, glorious noonday, 
 From the Sun of suns is there. 
 
 There no night brings rest from labor, 
 For unknown are toil and care. 
 
 Oh, how glorious and resplendent, 
 Fragile body, shalt thou be, 
 
 When endued with so much beauty, 
 Full of health, and strong and free, 
 
 Full of vigor, full of pleasure, 
 That shall last eternally ! 
 
 Now with gladness, now with courage, 
 Bear the burden on thee laid, 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 1 1 5 
 
 That hereafter these thy labors 
 
 May with endless gifts be paid, 
 And in everlasting glory 
 
 Thou with brightness be arrayed. 
 
 Laud and honor to the Father, 
 
 Laud and honor to the Son, 
 Laud and honor to the Spirit, 
 
 Ever Three and ever One, 
 Consubstantial, co-eternal, 
 
 While unending ages run. 
 
 The Church Hymnal. 
 
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 " The Redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with Sing- 
 ing unto Zion." — Isa. li. 11. 
 
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 I H ! sing to ine of heaven, 
 When I am called to die, 
 Sing songs of holy ecstasy, 
 To waft my soul on high. 
 
 +$ $-* 
 
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 116 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 When cold and sluggish drops 
 
 Roll off my marble brow, 
 Burst forth in strains of joyfulness : 
 
 Let heaven begin below. 
 
 When the last moment comes, 
 
 Oh ! watch my dying face, 
 And catch the bright, seraphic gleam 
 
 Which o'er each feature plays. 
 
 Then, to my ravished ears, 
 Let one sweet song be given : 
 
 Let music charm me last on earth, 
 And greet me first in heaven. 
 
 Then round my senseless clay 
 
 Assemble those I love, 
 And sing of heaven, delightful heaven, 
 
 My glorious home above ! 
 
 Mrs. Mary S. B. Dana. 
 
 Note. — Author of the popular song, "I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a 
 stranger," etc. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 117 
 
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 "With White Robes, and Palms in Their Hands. — Rev. vii. 9. 
 
 PALMS of glory, raiment bright, 
 Crowns that never fade away, 
 Gird and deck the saints in light, — 
 Priests and kings and conquerors they. 
 
 Yet the conquerors bring their palms 
 
 To the Lamb amid the throne, 
 And proclaim, in joyful psalms, 
 
 Victory through his cross alone. 
 
 Kings for harps their crowns resign, 
 
 Crying, as they strike the chords, 
 " Take the kingdom : it is thine, 
 
 King of kings and Lord of lords." 
 
 Round the altar priests confess, 
 
 If their robes are white as snow, 
 'Twas the Saviour's righteousness, 
 
 And His blood, that made them so. 
 
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 -$*» 
 
 118 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Who are these ? On earth they dwelt : 
 
 Sinners, once, of Adam's race ; 
 Guilt and fear and suffering felt, 
 
 But were saved by sovereign grace. 
 
 They were mortal, too, like us : 
 Ah, when we, like them, must die, 
 
 May our souls, translated thus, 
 
 Triumph, reign, and shine on high ! 
 
 James Montgomery. — [1771-1854.] 
 
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 "They sung a New Song."— Rev. v. 9. 
 
 HARK ! how the choral song of heaven 
 Swells full of peace and joy above ! 
 Hark ! how they strike their golden harps, 
 And raise the tuneful notes of love ! 
 
 No anxious care nor thrilling grief, 
 No deep despair nor gloomy woe, 
 
 They feel, when high their lofty strains, 
 In noblest, sweetest concord, flow. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 1 1 9 
 
 When shall we join the heavenly host 
 Who sing Immanuel's praise on high, 
 
 And leave behind our doubts and fears, 
 To swell the chorus of the sky ? 
 
 Oh ! come, thou rapture-bringing morn, 
 
 And usher in the joyful day : 
 We long to see thy rising sun 
 
 Drive all these clouds of grief away. 
 
 Note. — These inspiring words are admirably adapted to the tune ol 
 " Park Street," by Venua. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 'The Lord shall be Thine Everlasting Light." — Isa. lx. 20 
 
 TE golden lamps of heaven, farewell, 
 With all your feeble light ; 
 Farewell, thou ever-changing moon 
 Pale empress of the night. 
 
 And thou, refulgent orb of day, 
 
 In brighter flames arrayed, 
 My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere, 
 
 No more demands thine aid. 
 
 *-$ &+ 
 
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 120 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Ye stars are but the shining dust 
 
 Of my divine abode, — 
 The pavement of those heavenly courts 
 
 Where I shall reign with God. 
 
 The Father of eternal light 
 
 Shall there his beams display ; 
 Nor shall one moment's darkness mix 
 
 With that unvaried day. 
 
 No more the drops of piercing grief 
 
 Shall swell into mine eyes, 
 Nor the meridian sun decline 
 
 Amid those brighter skies. 
 
 There all the millions of his saints 
 
 Shall in one song unite ; 
 And each the bliss of all shall view 
 
 With infinite delight. 
 
 Dr. Philip Doddridge.— [1702-1751.] 
 
 Note. — This is one of the author's very noblest hymns. As read by 
 the late Edward Everett, its effects were surpassingly grand. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 121 
 
 %)xi %mw of t\u gltmft i« fMawn. 
 
 "Salvation to Our God which sitteth upon the Throne, and to 
 the Lamb."— Rev. vii. 10. 
 
 O HEAVENLY Jerusalem 
 Of everlasting halls ! 
 Thrice blessed are the people 
 Thou storest in thy walls. 
 
 Thou art the golden mansion 
 Where saints forever sing, — 
 
 The seat of God's own chosen, 
 The palace of the King. 
 
 There God forever sitteth 
 Himself of all the Crown ; 
 
 The Lamb the Light that shineth, 
 And never goeth down. 
 
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 122 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Naught to this seat approacheth 
 
 Their sweet peace to molest : 
 They sing their God forever, 
 
 Nor day nor night they rest. 
 
 Sure hope doth thither lead us ; 
 
 Our longings thither tend: 
 May short-lived toil ne'er daunt us 
 
 For joys that cannot end ! 
 
 Hymns Ancient and Modern. 
 
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 -63- 
 
 VI. 
 
 ASPIRATIONS FOR HEAVEN. 
 
 " Oh ! I would fly and be at rest, 
 
 Far, far beyond each glittering sphere 
 That hangs upon the azure breast 
 
 Of all we know of heaven here. 
 There would I rest, beneath that throne 
 
 Whose glorious circle gilds the sky, 
 Where sits Jehovah, who alone 
 
 ^an wipe the mourner's weeping eye." 
 
 123 
 
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 " My Flesh longeth for Thee in a Dry and Thirsty Land." - 
 Ps. lxiii. 1. 
 
 TIME, thou speedest on but slowly : 
 Hours, how tardy is your pace, 
 Ere with Him, the high and holy, 
 
 I hold converse face to face ! 
 Here is naught but care and mourning : 
 
 Comes a joy, it will not stay. 
 Fairly shines the sun at dawning, 
 Night will soon o'ercloud the day. 
 
 Onward, then ! not long I wander 
 Ere my Saviour comes for me ; 
 
 And with him abiding yonder, 
 All his glory I shall see. 
 
 125 
 
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 126 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Oh, the music and the singing 
 Of the host redeemed by love ! 
 
 Oh, the hallelujahs ringing 
 
 Through the halls of light above ! 
 
 Lyra Germanic a. 
 
 %\ ftame witft <M i» <&tmtn. 
 
 " So shall We ever be with the Lord."— 1 Thess. iv. 17. 
 
 FOREVER with the Lord ! " 
 Amen ! so let it be. 
 Life from the dead is in that word : 
 'Tis immortality. 
 
 Here in this body pent, 
 
 Absent from Him, I roam, 
 Yet nightly pitch my moving tent 
 
 A day's march nearer home. 
 
 My Father's house on high, 
 
 Home of my soul, how near 
 At times to Faith's discerning eye 
 
 Thy golden gates appear ! 
 
 *$- $ 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 127 
 
 Ah ! then my spirit faints 
 
 To reach the land I love, — 
 The bright inheritance of saints, 
 
 Jerusalem above. 
 
 " Forever with the Lord ! " 
 Father, if 'tis thy will, 
 The promise of that faithful word 
 E'en here to me fulfil. 
 
 Be thou at my right hand : 
 
 Then can I never fail. 
 Uphold thou me, and I shall stand ; 
 
 Fight, and I must prevail. 
 
 James Montgomery. 
 
 Mt ^mtifk f teiott vi flJttriist in graven. 
 
 1 Rejoicing in Hope." —Rom. iv. 12. 
 
 FROM thee, my God, my joys shall rise, 
 And run eternal rounds, 
 Beyond the limits of the skies, 
 And all created bounds. 
 
 *$ $4 
 
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 128 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 The holy triumphs of my soul 
 
 Shall death itself out-brave ; 
 Leave dull mortality behind, 
 
 And fly beyond the grave. 
 
 There where my blessed Jesus reigns, 
 
 In heaven's unmeasured space, 
 I'll spend a long eternity 
 
 In pleasure and in praise. 
 
 Millions of years my wondering eyes 
 
 Shall o'er thy beauties rove ; 
 And endless ages I'll adore 
 
 The glories of thy love. 
 
 Sweet Jesus, every smile of thine 
 
 Shall fresh endearments bring, 
 And thousand tastes of new delight 
 
 From all thy graces spring. 
 
 Haste, my Beloved, fetch my soul 
 
 Up to thy blessed abode : 
 Fly, for my spirit longs to see 
 
 My Saviour and my God. 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 129 
 
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 "In this We groan, being burdened." — 2 Cor. v. 2, 4. 
 
 I AM weary of straying : Oh ! fain would I rest 
 In the far distant land of the pure and the 
 blest ; 
 Where sin can no longer her blandishments spread, 
 And tears and temptations forever have fled. 
 
 I am weary of hoping where hope is untrue, — 
 As fair, but as fleeting, as morning's bright dew : 
 I long for that land whose blest promise alone 
 Is changeless and sure as Eternity's throne. 
 
 I am weary of sighing o'er sorrows of earth, 
 O'er joy's glowing visions, that fade at their birth . 
 O'er the pangs of the loved, that we cannot as- 
 suage ; 
 
 O'er the blightings of youth, and the weakness of 
 age. 
 
 *■$ $^ 
 
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 130 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 There flowers of grace in beauty stand, 
 With fragrance of immortal bloom : 
 
 No blighting breath nor icy hand 
 
 Demands their sweetness for the tomb. 
 
 Sweet, sinless home ! my spirit longs 
 
 To mount the skies, and breathe thine air ; 
 
 With grateful heart to join the songs 
 Whose rolling tide flows ceaseless there. 
 
 Mrs. Hinsdale. 
 
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 "Near unto Him."— Ps. cxlviii. 14. 
 
 "jVTEARER, my God, to thee, 
 -L^l Nearer to thee. 
 E'en though it be a cross 
 
 That raiseth me, 
 Still all my songs shall be, 
 Nearer, my God, to thee, 
 
 Nearer to thee. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 131 
 
 Though like the wanderer, 
 The sun gone down, 
 
 Darkness be over me, 
 My rest a stone, 
 
 Yet in my dreams I'd be 
 
 Nearer, my God, to thee, 
 Nearer to thee. 
 
 There let the way appear 
 Steps into heaven ; 
 
 All that thou sendest me 
 In mercy given ; 
 
 Angels to beckon me 
 
 Nearer, my God, to thee, 
 Nearer to thee. 
 
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 Then with my waking thoughts 
 Bright with thy praise, 
 
 Out of my stony griefs 
 Bethel I'll raise ; 
 
 So by my woes to be 
 
 Nearer, my God, to thee, 
 Nearer to thee. 
 
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 132 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 %\u Wattflem'0 ftome in Qtmu. 
 
 'They were Strangers and Pilgrims."— Heb. xi. 13. 
 
 I'M a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger : 
 I can tarry, I can tarry but a night. 
 Do not detain me ; for I am going 
 To where the streamlets are ever flowing. 
 I'm a pilgrim, &c. 
 
 -en 
 
 Or if on joyful wings, 
 
 Cleaving the sky, 
 Sun, moon, and stars forgot, 
 
 Upward I fly, 
 Still all my songs shall be, 
 Nearer, my God, to thee, 
 
 Nearer to thee. 
 
 Miss Sarah F. Adajks. 
 
 "*■ 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 133 
 
 There the sunbeams are ever shining : 
 I am longing, I am longing, for the sight. 
 Within a country unknown and dreary, 
 I have been wandering forlorn and weary. 
 I'm a pilgrim, &c. 
 
 Of that county to which I am going, 
 My Redeemer, my Redeemer, is the light : 
 There is no sorrow, nor any sighing, 
 Nor any sin there, nor any dying. 
 I'm a pilgrim, &c. 
 
 Mrs. Mary S. B. Dana. 
 
 Note. —For the beautiful Italian melody to which this hymn is set, see 
 ; The Northern Harp," p. 54. 
 
 Py ftowe in graven. 
 
 'We have no continuing City; but We seek One to come." - 
 Heb. xiii. 14. 
 
 I'M but a stranger here : 
 Heaven is my home. 
 Earth is a desert drear : 
 Heaven is my home. 
 
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 134 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Danger and sorrow stand 
 
 Round me on every hand : 
 
 Heaven is my fatherland, 
 
 Heaven is my home. 
 
 What though the tempest rage ? 
 
 Heaven is my home. 
 Short is my pilgrimage : 
 
 Heaven is my home. 
 And Time's wild, wintry blast 
 Soon will be overpast; 
 I shall reach home at last : 
 
 Heaven is my home. 
 
 Therefore I murmur not : 
 
 Heaven is my home. 
 Whate'er my earthly lot, 
 
 Heaven is my home. 
 And I shall surely stand 
 There at my Lord's right hand : 
 Heaven is my fatherland, 
 
 Heaven is my home. t. r. Taylor. 
 
 Note. — An appropriate tune for this beautiful song of the Father- 
 land is " Bethany," by Dr. Lowell Mason. See " Songs for Social and 
 Public Worship," p. 234. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 135 
 
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 11 And I, John, saw the Holy City, New Jerusalem, coming down 
 from God." — Rev. xxi. 2. 
 
 JERUSALEM, my happy home, 
 Name ever dear to me ! 
 When shall my labors have an end, 
 In joy and peace and thee ? 
 
 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls 
 
 And pearly gates behold? 
 Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, 
 
 And streets of shining gold ? 
 
 Oh when, thou city of my God ! 
 
 Shall I thy courts ascend, 
 Where congregations ne'er break up, 
 
 And Sabbaths have no end ? 
 
 There happier bowers than Eden's bloom, 
 
 Nor sin nor sorrow know : 
 Blest seats ! through rude and stormy scenes, 
 
 I onward press to you. 
 
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 136 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Why should I shrink at pain and woe, 
 
 Or feel at death dismay ? 
 I've Canaan's goodly land in view, 
 
 And realms of endless day. 
 
 Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there, 
 
 Around my Saviour, stand ; 
 And soon my friends in Christ below 
 
 Will join the glorious band. 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home ! 
 
 My soul still pants for thee : 
 Then shall my sorrows have an end, 
 
 When I thy joys shall see. 
 
 James Montgomery's " Christian Psalmist." 
 
 Note. — This celebrated hymn, which in its present form has been in 
 nse about a century, is drawn from an old lyric, commencing, 
 
 11 O mother dear, Jerusalem I 
 When shall I come to thee ? " 
 
 sometimes ascribed to David Dickson [1583-1662]. Mr. William Reed 
 Deanc, however, has a copy of the hymn, printed in 1592; and hence its Eng- 
 lish origin must have been earlier than generally supposed. It is doubtless, 
 in its English form, a translation of some mediaeval Latin hymn, whose spirit, 
 sentiments, and expressions were drawn from the twenty-fifth chapter of St. 
 Augustine's ''Meditations," or perhaps directly from the twenty-first and 
 twenty-second chapters of the Apocalypse. See " O mother dear, Jerusa- 
 lem 1 " by William C. Prime, New York, 1865; and " The Story of aHymn," 
 by Horatius Bonar, in " The Excelsior," vol. i. p. 251. 
 
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Songs on Heaven. 137 
 
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 "He shall bless Thee in the Land." — Deut. xxviii. 8. 
 
 ON Jordan's stormy banks I stand, 
 And cast a wistful eye 
 To Canaan's fair and happy land, 
 Where my possessions lie. 
 
 Oh the transporting, rapturous scene 
 
 That rises to my sight ! 
 Sweet fields arrayed in living green, 
 
 And rivers of delight. 
 
 There generous fruits, that never fail, 
 
 On trees immortal grow ; 
 There rock and hill, and brook and vale, 
 
 With milk and honey flow. 
 
 O'er all those wide-extended plains 
 
 Shines one eternal day, 
 Where God the Son forever reigns. # 
 
 And scatters night away. 
 
 *ffi : * 
 
No chilling winds nor poisonous breath 
 Can reach that healthful shore : 
 
 Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, 
 Are felt and feared no more. 
 
 When shall I reach that happy place, 
 
 And be forever blest ? 
 When shall I see my Father's face, 
 
 And in his bosom rest ? 
 
 Dr. Samuel Stennett. — [1727-1795.] 
 
 Note. — Though an imitation of '* There is a land of pure delight," by 
 Dr. Watts, still this hymn is very beautiful and joyous. 
 
 M»ve»Xt| Wowmntm. 
 
 " Our Conversation is in Heaven."— Phil. iii. 
 
 WHILE through this changing world 
 we roam, 
 From infancy to age, 
 Heaven is the Christian pilgrim's home, 
 His rest at every stage. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 139 
 
 Thither his raptured thought ascends, 
 
 Eternal joys to share ; 
 There his adoring spirit bends, 
 
 While here he kneels in prayer. 
 
 From earth his freed affections rise 
 
 To fix on things above, 
 Where all his hope of glory lies, 
 
 And love is perfect love. 
 
 Oh, there may we our treasure place ! 
 
 There let our hearts be found, 
 That still where sin abounded, grace 
 
 May more and more abound ! 
 
 Henceforth our conversation be 
 
 With Christ before the throne : 
 Ere long we eye to eye shall see, 
 
 And know as we are known. 
 
 James Montgomery 
 
 Note : — 
 
 " Montgomery seeks a hallowed lyre, 
 To consecrate the poet's name. 
 How pure is inspiration's fire, 
 When blessed religion fans the flame ! " 
 
 William B. Tappan. 
 
 ** -*■* 
 
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 140 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 'Open Ye the Gates." — Isa. xxvi. 2. 
 
 THE sands of time are sinking, 
 The dawn of heaven breaks ; 
 The summer morn I've sighed for — 
 
 The fair, sweet morn — awakes. 
 Dark, dark, hath been the midnight : 
 
 But day spring is at hand ; 
 And glory, glory, dwelleth 
 In Immanuel's land. 
 
 There the red Rose of Sharon 
 
 Unfolds its heartmost bloom, 
 And fills the air of heaven 
 
 With ravishing perfume. 
 Oh ! to behold it blossom, 
 
 While by its fragrance fanned, 
 Where glory, glory, dwelleth, 
 
 In Immanuel's land. 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 141 
 
 The King there, in his beauty, 
 
 Without a veil is seen : 
 " It were a well-spent journey, 
 
 Though seven deaths lay between." 
 The Lamb, with his fair army, 
 
 Doth on Mount Zion stand ; 
 And glory, glory, dwelleth 
 
 In Immanuel's land. 
 
 O Christ! he is the fountain, 
 
 The deep, sweet well of love. 
 The streams on earth I've tasted, 
 
 More deep I'll drink above. 
 There to an ocean fulness 
 
 His mercy doth expand ; 
 And glory, glory, dwelleth 
 
 In Immanuel's land. 
 
 Fair Anworth by the Solway, 
 
 To me thou art still dear : 
 E'en from the verge of heaven, 
 
 I drop for thee a tear. 
 
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 142 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Oh ! if one soul from Anworth 
 
 Meet me at God's right hand, 
 My heaven will be two heavens 
 
 In Immanuel's land. 
 
 I've wrestled on towards heaven, 
 
 'Gainst storm and wind and tide : 
 Now like a weary traveller 
 
 That leaneth on his guide, 
 Amid the shades of evening, 
 
 While sinks life's lingering sand, 
 I hail the glory dawning 
 
 From Immanuel's land. 
 
 With mercy and with judgment 
 
 My web of time he wove, 
 And aye the dews of sorrow 
 
 Were lustred with his love. 
 I'll bless the hand that guided, 
 
 I'll bless the heart that planned, 
 When throned where glory dwelleth, 
 
 In Immanuel's land. 
 
 **- $-: 
 
4 — — ■ &- 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 143 
 
 The bride eyes not her garments, 
 
 But her dear bridegroom's face : 
 I will not gaze at glory, 
 
 But at my King of grace ; 
 Not at the crown he giveth, 
 
 But on his pierced hand. 
 The Lamb is all the glory 
 
 Of Immanuel's land. 
 
 Samuel Rutherford. 
 
 Note. — The author's last words were, "Glory, glory, dwelleth in Im- 
 manuel's land!" The sentiments, and many of the expressions, are his; 
 the poetry is by another hand. 
 
 $o)Mtt0 Qmtt U Qtnvtn. 
 
 "Now is Our Salvation nearer." —Rom. xiii. 11. 
 
 ONE sweetly solemn thought 
 Comes to me o'er and o'er, 
 I'm nearer home to-day 
 
 Than I ever have been before. 
 
144 Songs on Heaven. 
 
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 Nearer my Father's house, 
 
 Where the many mansions be ; 
 Nearer the great white throne, 
 
 Nearer the jasper sea ; 
 
 Nearer the bound of life, 
 
 Where we lay our burdens down ; 
 
 Nearer leaving the cross, 
 Nearing gaining the crown. 
 
 But lying darkly between, 
 
 Winding down through the night, 
 
 Is the dim and unknown stream 
 That leads me at last to the light. 
 
 Saviour, perfect my trust, 
 
 Strengthen the might of my faith : 
 
 Let me feel as I would when I stand 
 On the rock of the shore of death. 
 
 Feel as I would when my feet 
 
 Are slipping over the brink ; 
 For it may be I'm nearer home, 
 
 Nearer now, than I think. 
 
 Alice Caret.— [1820 — .] 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 145 
 
 spiring fov tft* ifljjjs oi Qmvm. 
 
 "I Press towards the Mark for tiie Prize." — Phil. iii. 14. 
 
 I SEND the joys of earth away ; 
 Away, ye tempters of the mind ! 
 False as the smooth, deceitful sea, 
 And empty as the whistling wind. 
 
 Tour streams were floating me along, 
 Down to the gulf of black despair ; 
 
 And, whilst I listened to your song, 
 
 Your streams had e'en conveyed me there. 
 
 Lord, I adore thy matchless grace, 
 That warned me of that dark abyss ; 
 
 That drew me from those treacherous seas, 
 And bid me seek superior bliss. 
 
 Now to the shining realms above 
 
 I stretch my hands, and glance mine eyes : 
 Oh for the pinions of a dove, 
 
 To bear me to the upper skies ! 
 
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 146 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 There, from the bosom of my God, 
 Oceans of endless pleasures roll ; 
 
 There would I fix my last abode, 
 And drown the sorrows of my soul. 
 
 Dr. Isaac Watts. 
 
 %xtiw of t\tt fwawttltj teatnj. 
 
 "Come hither, I will shew Thee the Bride, the Lamb's Wite." 
 — Rev. xxi. 9. 
 
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 OZion so golden ! O city so pure ! 
 Thy beauty and brightness, what heart can 
 endure ? 
 I know not, I know not, the joy and the light 
 Which in thy grand portals will burst on my sight ; 
 And, vanquished, I falter to utter thy praise, 
 Am conquered, exhausted, thy glories to raise. 
 
 Fair Zion ! thy halls are resounding with song, 
 Full, full of the paeans of earth's martyred throng, 
 Bright bands of the blessed, their Prince stands 
 
 between, 
 And shining the city with light aye serene. 
 
4 
 
 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 147 
 
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 There pastures are flowing in unfading spring ; 
 And there is the throne of the Lamb and the King ; 
 And there is the sound of the song and the feast ; 
 And there are the saints, and there is the Priest ; 
 And there in our Zion, in calm, holy seats, 
 A Leader in splendor his loved people meets. 
 
 city eternal ! built safe on the shore, 
 
 Thy walls and thy turrets shine white evermore : 
 
 1 seek thee, and cherish. I mourn and I long 
 For thy beauties, which kindle yet baffle my song. 
 
 But not by my merits I ask for thy breath ; 
 For by merit 'tis mine to perish in death. 
 But the fountain of David flows onward with me, 
 Still speeding and surging to its shoreless sea, 
 Aye healing and cleaning wherever it laves ; 
 And the vilest of earth shall be washed by its 
 
 Waves. Bernard De Clugny. 
 
 Xote. — The above extract is from a translation of Bernard's elegant 
 Latin poem, by A. O. M., 1859, and published by Joel Munsell, Albany, 
 1870. The translation commences with the Latin : — 
 
 11 Hie breve vivitur, hie breve plangetur, hie breve fletur, 
 Xon breve vivere, non breve plangcre, retribuetur, 
 
 and is very ably made. 
 
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 148 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 % PttU WMIe,— tUm &mta. 
 
 "Surely I come quickly: Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus." 
 Rev. xxii. 20. 
 
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 BEYOND the smiling and the weeping, 
 I shall be soon ; 
 Beyond the waking and the sleeping, 
 Beyond the sowing and the reaping, 
 I shall be soon. 
 Love, rest, and home ! 
 Sweet home ! 
 Lord, tarry not, but come. 
 
 Beyond the blooming and the fading, 
 
 I shall be soon ; 
 
 Beyond the shining and the shading, 
 
 Beyond the hoping and the dreading, 
 
 I shall be soon. 
 
 Love, rest, and home ! 
 
 Sweet home ! 
 
 Lord, tarry not, but come. 
 10 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 149 
 
 Beyond the rising and the setting, 
 
 I shall be soon ; 
 Beyond the calming and the fretting, 
 Beyond remembering and forgetting, 
 I shall be soon. 
 Love, rest, and home ! 
 Sweet home ! 
 Lord, tarry not, but come. 
 
 Beyond the parting and the meeting, 
 
 I shall be soon ; 
 Bej^ond the farewell and the greeting, 
 Beyond the pulse's fever beating, 
 I shall be soon. 
 Love, rest, and home ! 
 Sweet home ! 
 Lord, tarry not, but come. 
 
 Beyond the frost-chain and the fever, 
 
 I shall be soon ; 
 Beyond the rock-waste and the river, 
 Beyond the ever and the never, 
 
 I shall be soon. 
 
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*-$ $* 
 
 150 Songs on Heaven. 
 
 Love, rest, and home ! 
 
 Sweet home ! 
 
 Lord, tarry not, but come. 
 
 Dr. Horatius Bonar. 
 
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 'The Precious Things of Heaven." — Deut. xiii. 13. 
 
 MY days are gliding swiftly by ; 
 And I, a pilgrim stranger, 
 Would not detain them as they fly, 
 Those hours of toil and danger. 
 
 For now we stand on Jordan's strand ; 
 
 Our friends are passing over ; 
 And, just before, the shining shore 
 We may almost discover. 
 
 Our absent King the watchword gave, 
 
 " Let every lamp be burning : " 
 We look afar, across the wave, 
 
 Our distant home discerning. 
 For now we stand, &c. 
 
 *$ ; $-* 
 
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 Songs on Heaven. 151 
 
 Should coming days be dark and cold, 
 We will not yield to sorrow ; 
 
 For hope will sing, with courage bold, 
 " There's glory on the morrow." 
 For now we stand, &c. 
 
 Let storms of woe in whirlwinds rise, 
 Each cord on earth to sever, 
 
 There, bright and joyous in the skies, 
 There, is our home forever. 
 For now we stand, &c. 
 
 Dr. Nelson 
 
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