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That rest which yet remains ;
That happy kingdom of the blest,

Where our Redeemer reigns ? 2 Infinite power defends the place

From all the assaults of hell;
Infinite, everlasting grace

Supplies the kingdom well. 3 Whilst labouring in the works of love,

With trials and with pains,
Saints ! lift your joyful eyes above,

'Tis there your rest remains.
4 Fountain of love ! Thy grace impart

To animate my breast ;
Let not an unbelieving heart

Deprive me of this rest.
5 There, in Thy blessèd house above,

Grant me a humble place ;
Where I may taste my Saviour's love,

And see His smiling face.



7s. PALMS of glory, raiment bright,

Crowns that never fade away, Gird and deck the saints in light ;

Priests and kings and conquerors they. 2 Yet the conquerors bring their palms

To the Lamb amidst the throne,

And proclaim, in joyful psalms,

Victory through His cross alone. b 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. Who were 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!


6666.88. AFE home, safe home in port!

Rent cordage, shattered deck,
Torn sails, provisions short,

And only not a wreck;
But, ( ! the joy upon the shore,
To tell our voyage-perils o'er !
The prize, the prize secure !.

The wrestler nearly fell ;
Bare all he could endure,
And bare not always well.



But he may smile at troubles gone

Who sets the victor-garland on. 3 No more the foe can harm,

No more of leaguered camp,
And cry of night-alarm,

And need of ready lamp:
And yet how nearly he had failed!

How nearly had the foe prevailed! 4

The lamb is in the fold,

In perfect safety penned;
The lion once had hold,

And thought to make an end;
But One came by with wounded side,

And for the sheep the Shepherd died! 5 The exile is at home ;

0 nights and days of tears ! O longings not to roam !

O sins and doubts and fears ! But now has come the glorious day When God has wiped all tears away!

JOSEPH OF THE STUDIUM, trans. J. M. NEALE. 585 THE happy fields, the heavenly host, The realms of rest

above, Do make us gladsome, Lord; but most

The holy land we love. 2 O ! brigặt those golden gates must shine

That let no evil in !
That boundless region, how divine,
That hath no room for sin !


No room to weep o'er lustre lent,

O’er grace outpoured in vain ;
No more in anguish to repent,

And then offend again !
But gloriously to spend that grace

We boundlessly receive ;
Nor once Thine image to deface,

Nor once Thy Spirit grieve.
O! here Thy servants soon give o'er,

But half their work fulfil ;
How faint their zeal! their strife how sore,

To climb the heavenly hill !
But there upon Thine errands sweet,

With what glad speed they run !
What smiling service ! how complete

The work divinely done !
Still, Lord, with sorrow and with sin

Wars here Thy pilgrim band;
Yet blest the warfare that shall win
Thy heaven, our holy land.




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.

2 There is a land of peace,

Good angels know it well ;
Glad songs that never cease

Within its portals swell ;
Around its glorious throne,

Ten thousand saints adore
Christ, with the Father one,

And Spirit, evermore.
3 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.



587 THE NHERE is a heaven of perfect peace,

The eternal throne is there; But what that tearless region is

* It doth not yet appear.' 2 And there are angels, strong and fair,

Who know not sin nor fear ; But what the robes of white they wear

It doth not yet appear.' 3 And there are ransomed spirits too,

Who once were pilgrims here; But how the Saviour's face they view* It doth not yet appear.'


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