2 Onward we go, for still we hear them

singing,

'Come, weary souls! for Jesus bids you ;'

come;

And, through the dark its echoes sweetly ringing,

The music of the gospel leads us home.
Angels of Jesus, angels of light,

Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night!

3 Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and

sea,

And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing,

Kind Shepherd! turn their weary steps to Thee.

Angels of Jesus, angels of light,

Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night!

4 Rest comes at length: though life be long and dreary,

The day must dawn, and darksome night be past;

Faith's journey ends in welcome to the

weary,

And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last.

Angels of Jesus, angels of light,

Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the

night!

5 Angels sing on, your faithful watches keeping,

Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above;

Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping,

And life's long shadows break in cloudless love.

Angels of Jesus, angels of light. Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the

572

<

night!

F. W. FABER.*

8.7. double.

HARK! the sound of holy voices,

Chanting at the crystal sea

Alleluia, Alleluia,

Alleluia,' Lord, to Thee:
Multitude, which none can number,
Like the stars in glory stands,
Clothed in white apparel, holding
Palms of victory in their hands.
2 Patriarch, and holy prophet,
Who prepared the way of Christ,
King, apostle, saint, confessor,
Martyr, and evangelist,

Saintly maiden, godly matron,

Widows who have watched to prayer, Joined in holy concert, singing

To the Lord of all, are there.

3 They have come from tribulation,

And have washed their robes in blood, Washed them in the blood of Jesus; Tried they were, and firm they stood;

Mocked, imprisoned, stoned, tormented,
Sawn asunder, slain with sword,
They have conquered death and Satan
By the might of Christ the Lord.

4 Now they reign in heavenly glory,
Now they walk in golden light,
Now they drink, as from a river,
Holy bliss and infinite;

Love and peace they taste for ever,
And all truth and knowledge see

In the Beatific Vision

Of the Blessed Trinity.

573

C. WORDSWORTH.

L.M.

HEAVEN is a place of rest from sin; But all who hope to enter there,

Must here that holy course begin,

Which shall their souls for rest prepare. 2 Clean hearts, O God! in us create ; Right spirits, Lord, in us renew; Commence we now that higher state, Now do Thy will as angels do. 3 A life in heaven! O what is this? The sum of all that faith believed: Fulness of joy and depths of bliss, Unseen, unfathomed, unconceived.

4 While thrones, dominions, princedoms,

powers,

And saints made perfect, triumph thus: A goodly heritage is ours,

There is a heaven on earth for us.

5 The church of Christ, the school of grace, The Spirit teaching by the word! In those our Saviour's steps we trace; By this His living voice is heard. 6 Firm in His footsteps may we tread, Learn every lesson of His love; And be from grace to glory led,

From heaven below to heaven above.

574

JER

J. MONTGOMERY.

ERUSALEM, my happy home!
Name ever dear to me;

When shall my labours have an end,
In joy, and peace, and thee?

C.M.

2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built

walls

And pearly gates behold,

Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?

3 There happier bowers than Eden's bloom, Nor sin nor sorrow know:

Blest seats! through rude and stormy seas
I onward press to you.

4 Why should I shrink from pain and woe,
Or feel at death dismay?
I've Canaan's goodly land in view,
And realms of endless day.

5 Apostles, martyrs, prophets there,
Around my Saviour stand;

And soon my friends in Christ below
Will join the glorious band.

6 Jerusalem, my happy home!...
My soul still pants for thee:
Then shall my labours have an end,
When I thy joys shall see.

575

JE

Trans. LATIN HYMN.

ERUSALEM on high
My song and city is,

My home whene'er I die,
The centre of my bliss:
O happy place!
When shall I be,
My God,with Thee,
To see Thy face?

66.66.88.

2 There dwells my Lord, my King,
Judged here unfit to live;
There angels to Him sing,
And lowly homage give:
O happy place!

When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?

3 The patriarchs of old

There from their travels cease;
The prophets there behold

Their longed-for Prince of Peace:

O happy place!

When shall I be,

My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?

4 The Lamb's apostles there

I might with joy behold,