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L. M.

MRS. STEELE. The Honor that awaits the Faithful in a future Life. 1 THERE is a glorious world on high,

Resplendent with eternal day;
Faith views the blissful prospect nigh,

While God's own word reveals the way.

2 There shall the favorites of the Lord

With never-fading lustre shine; Surprising honor! vast reward

Conferred on man by love divine! 3 How blest are those, how truly wise,

Who learn and keep the sacred road ! Happy the men whom Heaven employs

To turn rebellious hearts to God!

4 To win them from the fatal way,

Where erring folly thoughtless roves, And that blest righteousness display,

Which Jesus wrought, and God approves ! 5 The shining firmament shall fade,

And sparkling stars resign their light; But these shall know nor change nor shade,

Forever fair, forever bright!

6 On wings of faith and strong desire,

0, may our spirits daily rise, And reach at last the shining choir,

the bright mansions of the skies !

35 *


C. M.

Watts. A Prospect of Heaven. 1 THERE is a land of pure delight,

Where saints immortal reign ;
Infinite day excludes the night,

And pleasures banish pain.
2 There everlasting spring abides,

And never-withering flowers;
Death, like a narrow sea, divides

This heavenly land from ours. 3 Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood,

Stand dressed in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,

While Jordan rolled between.

4 But timorous mortals start and shrink

To cross this narrow sea,
And linger, shivering, on the brink,

And fear to launch away.
5 0, could we make our doubts remove,

Those gloomy doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love

With unbeclouded eyes, 6 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.


C. M.

Watts. Headen invisible and holy. 1 NOR eye hath seen, nor ear has heard,

Nor sense nor reason known, What joys the Father has prepared

For those that love the Son. 2 But the goed Spirit of the Lord

Reveals a heaven to come ; The beams of glory in his word

Allure and guide us home.
3 Pure are the joys above the sky,

And all the region peace ;
No wanton lips nor envious eye

Can see or taste the bliss.
4 Those holy gates forever bar

Pollution, sin, and shame;
None shall obtain admittance there

But followers of the Lamb.

C. M.

Watts. The humble Worship of Heaven. 1 FATHER, I long, I faint to see

The place of thine abode;
I'd leave thy earthly courts, and flee

Up to thy seat, my God.
2 Here I behold thy distant face,

And 'tis a pleasant sight;
But to abide in thine embrace

Is infinite delight.

3 I'd part with all the joys of sense

To gaze upon thy throne;
Pleasure springs fresh forever thence,

Unspeakable, unknown.
4 There all the heavenly hosts are seen ;

In shining ranks they move,
And drink immortal vigor in

With wonder and with love.
5 Then at thy feet, with awful fear,

The adoring armies fall;
With joy they shrink to nothing there

Before the Eternal All.

L. M.

WATTS. The Vanity of this world, and the Hope of a better. Ps. 17. 1 WHAT sinners value I resign;

Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine;
I shall behold thy blissful face,

And stand complete in righteousness. 2 This life's a dream, an empty show;

But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere;

When shall I wake and find me there? 3 O glorious hour! O blest abode !

I shall be near and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more control

The sacred pleasures of the soul.
4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground,

Till the last trumpet's joyful sound,
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Savior's image rise.

C. M.

WATTS. Felicity above. | THERE'S nothing round these painted skies,

Or round this dusty clod,
Nothing, my soul, that's worth thy joys,

Or lovely as thy God.
2 'Tis heaven on earth to taste his love,

To feel his quickening grace; And all the heaven I hope above

Is but to see his face. »
3 Why move my years in slow delay ?

O God of ages, why?
Let the spheres cleave, and mark my way

To the superior sky.


C. M.

Imperishable Riches.
I THESE mortal joys, how soon they fade !

How swift they pass away!
The dying flower reclines its head,

The beauty of a day.
2 But there are joys that cannot die,
With God laid


in store Treasure beyond the changing sky,

Brighter than golden ore.
3 To that my rising heart aspires,

Secure to find its rest,
And glories in such wide desires

Of all their wish possessed.

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