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Walking with God,
1 ETERNAL God, our wondering souls Admire thy matchless grace,
That thou wilt walk, that thou wilt dwell,
Cheer'd with thy converse I can trace
Through all the gloom one smile of thine
Nor shall I through eternal days
A restless pilgrim roam;
The hand that now directs my course
I ask not Enoch's rapturous flight
Joyful my spirit will consent
To drop its mortal load,
And hail the sharpest pangs of death
The hope of heaven our support under trials.
WHEN I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.
Should earth against my soul engage,
Then I can smile at Satan's rage,
Let cares like a wild deluge come,
There shall I bathe my weary
In seas of heavenly rest,
Hope of heaven by the resurrection of Christ.
BLESS'D be the everlasting God,
The Father of our Lord;
Be his abounding mercy prais'd,
His majesty ador'd.
When from the dead he rais'd his Son,
And call'd him to the sky,
He gave our souls a lively hope
What though our inbred sins require
Yet as the Lord our Saviour rose,
There's an inheritance divine
Reserv'd against that day;
"Tis incorrupted, undefil'd,
And fadeth not away.
Saints by the power of God are kept,
We walk by faith as strangers here,
"We walk by faith, not by sight."
THERE is a house not made with hands,
And here my spirit waiting stands,
Till God shall bid it fly.
Shortly this prison of my clay
That forms thee fit for heaven;
We walk by faith of joys to come,
"Tis pleasant to believe thy grace,
We would be absent from the flesh,
The joys of heaven anticipated.
1 COME, Lord, and warm each languid heart,
2 Sorrow, and pain, and every care,
The soul, from sin for ever free,
Redeeming love adore.
There all the followers of the Lamb
And endless honours to his name
Death easy in the prospect of heaven.
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
But timorous mortals start and shrink
And linger trembling on the brink,
O! could we make our doubts remove,
And see the Canaan that we love
With unbeclouded eyes:
Could we but climb where Moses stood,
Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood,
The heavenly Canaan,
1 FAR from these narrow scenes of night,
Fair distant land! could mortal eyes
How would our spirits long to rise,
There pain and sickness never come,
No cloud those blissful regions know,
For sin, the source of mortal woe,
5 O may the heavenly prospect fire
Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine,
The saints in glory.
1 GIVE me the wings of faith to rise
The saints above, how great their joys,