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Oh, that the blest ones, who in it have
share, All that they feel could as fully declare !
3 Truly Jerusalem name we that shore,
Vision of peace, that brings joy evermore ; Wish and fulfilment can severed be ne'er, Nor the thing prayed for come short of
4 There, where no troubles distraction can
bring, We the sweet anthems of Zion shall sing ; While for Thy grace, Lord, their voices of
praise Thy blessed people eternally raise. 5 There dawns no Sabbath, no Sabbath is
o'er, Those Sabbath-keepers have one evermore ; One and unending is that triumph-song
Which to the angels and us shall belong. 6 Now, in the meanwhile, with hearts raised
on high, We for that country must yearn and must
sigh ; Seeking Jerusalem, dear native land,
Through our long exile on Babylon's strand. 7 Low before Him with our praises we fall, Of Whom, and in Whom, and through
Whom are all ; Of Whom, the Father ; and in Whom, the
Through Whom, the Spirit, with Them ever One.
P. Abelard, 12th Cent. Tr. J. M. Neale.
4s, 6s. 81. SLEEP thy last sleep,
Free from care and sorrow;
Till th' eternal morrow;
O'er the silent river,
Jesus can deliver.
2 Life's dream is past,
All its sin and sadness ;
Dawns a day of gladness :
Earth, receive our treasure,
Waiting all His pleasure.
Those in life the dearest,
Christ, when thou appearest :
Comfort those now weeping,
E. A. Dayman.
L. M. ASLEEP in Jesus ! blessèd sleep, From which none ever wakes to weep; A calm and undisturbed repose,
Unbroken by the last of foes.
To be for such a slumber meet ;
3 Asleep in Jesus ! peaceful rest,
Whose waking is supremely blest ;
That manifests the Saviour's power. 4 Asleep in Jesus ! oh, for me
May such a blissful refuge be;
Waiting the summons from on high. 5 Asleep in Jesus ! far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be ;
Mrs. M. Mackay. 803
7,7,4. LET no tears to-day, be shed ; Holy is this narrow bed.
2 Not salvation hardly won,
3 But the pity of the Lord
4 Grants the prize without the course ; Crowns, without the battle's force.
5 God, who loveth innocence,
17 And in Thine own tender love, Bring us to the ranks above.
Anon. Paris Missal. Tr. R. F. Littledale. 804
To leave this weary road,
To be at home with God.
2 It is not death to close
The eye long dimmed by tears,
To spend eternal years. 3 It is not death to bear
The wrench that sets us free
Of boundless liberty. 4 It is not death to fling
Aside this sinful dust,
To live among the just. 5 Jesus, Thou Prince of life!
Thy chosen cannot die ;
H. A. C. Malan. Tr. G. W. Bethune. 805
7,8,7,8,7,7. GENTLE Shepherd, Thou hast stilled
Now Thy little lamb's brief weeping ; Ah, how peaceful, pale, and mild,
In its narrow bed 't is sleeping, And no sigh of anguish sore Heaves that little bosom more.
2 In this world of care and pain,
Lord, Thou wouldst no longer leave it ; To the sunny, heavenly plain
Dost Thou now with joy receive it ; Clothed in robes of spotless white, Now it dwells with Thee in light.
3 Ah, Lord Jesus, grant that we
Where it lives may soon be living, And the lovely pastures see
That its heavenly food are giving : Then the gain of death we prove Though Thou take what most we love.
J. W. Meinhold. Tr. C. Winkworth.
7,7,7,7,8,8. Now the laborer's task is o'er ;
Now the battle-day is past ;
Lands the voyager at last.
2 There the tears of earth are dried ;
There its hidden things are clear ;
By a juster Judge than here.
3 There the sinful souls, that turn
To the cross their dying eyes,
At His feet in Paradise.