968

ON Jordan's rugged banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye

To Canaan's fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.

20 the transporting, rapturous scene
That rises to my sight:

Sweet fields arrayed in living green,
And rivers of delight.

3 All o'er those wide-extended plains
Shines one eternal day;

There God, the Son, for ever reigns,
And scatters night away.

4 No chilling winds, nor poisonous breath,
Can reach that healthful shore;
Sickness and sorrow, pain and death,
Are felt and feared no more.

5 When shall I reach that happy place,
And be for ever blest?

When shall I see my Father's face,
And in His bosom rest?

969

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.

2 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 but heaven.

3 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.

4 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 Bingham Tappan 1818

Love Thee with unsinning heart,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.

3 When the praise of heaven I hear,
Loud as thunders to the ear,
Loud as many waters' noise,
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.

Robert Murray McCheyne 1839

THE HOLY CITY C. M. D.

There is

J. Barnby

hath

971

THERE is a City great and strong,

Twelve gates of precious stones, With turrets and high battlements, Not needing light of suns; The streets aglow with fire of gold, It hath no sound of strife; In glory all its own it stands

Beside the stream of Life.

2 A joy is there that knows no cloy, A light that ne'er grows dim, A multitude that never cease

From grateful praise and hymn; Lo, all the sainted sons of earth, And angels there I view; And there, O vision glorious! There standeth Jesus too!

VARINA C. M. D.

3 Jesus, I know 'tis He; I see
The mark of nail and spear;
And on His face I catch the trace
Of earth-time smile and tear;
But on His brow a crown shines now,
And bending hosts adore!
'Tis He, 'tis He who on the tree

The thorn-crown meekly wore!
4 0 wondrous, fair Jerusalem,
Shall I thy gates pass through?
Thy jubilations surely join,
Thy lordly splendors view?
O Crucified, O Glorified,

May I Thy face behold,
And join the ransomed as they sing
Along the streets of gold.

Denis Wortman, 1880

G. F. Root

EWING

7s, 6s. D.

A. Ewing

974

JERUSALEM the golden!

With milk and honey blest; Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed. I know not, O I know not

What joys await us there! What radiancy of glory!

What bliss beyond compare!

2 They stand, those halls of Zion,
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 blesséd

Are decked in glorious sheen.

JERUSALEM C. M.

3 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,

For ever and for ever

Are clad in robes of white.
4 0 sweet and blesséd country,
The home of God's elect!

O sweet and blesséd country,
That eager hearts expect!
Jesus, in mercy bring us

To that dear land of rest!

Who art, with God the Father,

And Spirit, ever blest.

Bernard of Morlaix, ab. 1150 Tr. by John Mason Neale 1851

C. F. Roper

975

O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem!

When shall I come to thee?

When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?

2 O happy harbor of God's saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow can be found,
Nor grief, nor care, nor toil.

3 No murky cloud o'ershadows thee,
Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
But every soul shines as the sun;
For God Himself gives light.
4 0 my sweet home, Jerusalem!
Thy joys when shall I see?
The King that sitteth on thy throne
In His felicity?

Francis Baker 1616 Alt. by David Dickson 1649

ALLELUIA 8s, 7s. 6 lines

E. J. Hopkins