« PreviousContinue »
JERUSALEM, my happy, home,
In joy and peace, and thee?
And pearly gates behold?
And streets of shining gold ?
Nor sin nor sorrow know :
I onward press to you.
Or feel at death dismay ?
And realms of endless day.
6 Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there
Around my Saviour stand;
Will join the glorious band.
My soul still pants for thee :
“ Urbs Syon aurca, Patria lactea." 1
4 The Prince is ever in them; With milk and honey blest,
The daylight is serene;
The pastures of the Blessed
Are decked in glorious sheen. 2 I know not, О I know not,
5 There is the Throne of David ; What social joys are there;
And there, from care releas'd, What radiancy of glory,
The song of them that triumph, What light beyond compare.
The shout of them that feast. 3 They stand, those halls of Sion,
6 And they, who, with their Leader, Conjubilant with song,
Have conquered in the fight, And bright with many an angel,
For ever and for ever
Are clad in robes of white.
"Christe, wares Seelenlicht.”
REV. VII. 13-17. 1
2 These through fiery trials trod; This innumerable throng,
These froin great affliction came; Round the altar, night and day,
Now, before the Throne of God, Hymning one triumphant song!
Seal'd with His Almighty Name, “Worthy is the Lamb, once slain,
Clad in raiment pure and white, “Blessing, honour, glory, power,
Victor-palms in every hand, “Wisdom, riches, to obtain,
Through their dear Redeemer's might, “New dominion every hour.”
More than conquerors they stand. 3 Hunger, thirst, disease unknown,
On immortal fruits they feed;
Shall to living fountains lead:
Perfect love dispels all fear;
James Montgomery, 1819.
Nearer the throne than cherubs stand,
My wondering soul says, who are they?
Wash'd are their robes in Jesus' blood,
They shine in uncreated light.
They bore the cross, and scorned the shame:
In God they dwell, and on Him rest.
Nor burning thirst shall they sustain:
By God the Lamb for ever fed.
The secret glories of their King:
And whence their loud exalted praise ?
They sing the wonders of His Name;
Dominion, and eternal praise.
Who dares to fill His Father's throne;
Rowland Hill, 1783.
And walk with Jesus, clothed in white;
Where pilgrims meet to part no more.
Death was their gate to endless life;
And build their happy nest on high.
And sing their hymns in melting strains;
The heights and depths of Jesus' love.
They sing hosannas all the while;
Sink down adoring at His feet.
And sometimes sing, and sometimes weep;
John Berridge, 1785.