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Irish Melody. Arr. by Elam Ives, Jr. (1802—1864.) 1846.


Heaven in Prospect.

13 Hunger, thirst, disease unknown,
Rev. vii. 9.

On immortal fruits they feed; 2 Kings for harps their crowns resign, Crying, as they strike the chords,

Them the Lamb amidst the throne, “Take the kingdom, it is Thine,

Shall to living fountains lead;
King of kings, and Lord of lords."

Joy and gladness banish sighs,
Round the altar, priests confess,

Perfect love dispels all fear,
If their robes are white as snow,

And forever from their eyes
T was the Saviour's righteousness,

God shall wipe away the tear.

James Montgomery. 1819, 1853. And His blood, that made them so. 3 Who were these? – On earth they dwelt, 1367

The happy Saints. Sinners once of Adam's race,

1 High in yonder realms of light, Guilt, and fear, and suffering felt,

Dwell the raptured saints above,
But were saved by sovereign grace.

Far beyond our feeble sight,
They were mortal, too, like us:

Happy in Immanuel's love:
Ah, when we, like them, shall die,

Pilgrims in this valc of tears,
May our souls, translated thus,

Once they knew, like us below,
Triumph, reign, and shine on high.

Gloomy doubts, distressing fears,
James Montgomery. (1771—1854.) 1829.

Torturing pain, and heavy woe.
1366 The Song of the Sealed.
Rev. vii. 9-16.

2 Mid the chorus of the skies, What are these in bright array,

Mid th' angelic lyres above,
This innumerable throng,

Hark, their songs melodious rise,
Round the altar night and day,

Songs of praise to Jesus' love:
Hymning one triumphant song:

Happy spirits, ye are fled, “Worthy is the Lamb, once slain,

Where no grief can entrance find; Blessing, honor, glory, power,

Lulled to rest the aching head, Wisdom, riches, to obtain,

Soothed the anguish of the mind. New dominion every hour."

3 All is tranquil and serene, 2 These through fiery trials trod;

Calm and undisturbed repose,
These from great afflictions came; There no cloud can intervene,
Now, before the throne of God,

There no angry tempest blows:
Sealed with His Almighty Name; Every tear is wiped away,
Clad in raiment pure and white,

Sighs no more shall heave the breast,
Victor-palms in every hand,

Night is lost in endless day, Through their dear Redeemer's might, Sorrow, in eternal rest.

More than conquerors they stand. Rev. Thomas Raffles. (1788–1863 ) 1812. ab. and alt

ONIDO. 7. D.

Ignace Pleyel. (1757-1831.)


| What are these arrayed in white, Brighter than the noon-day sun,

Foremost of the sons of light,

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ter-nal throne? These are they that bore the cross, No - bly for their Mas - ter stood,

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1368 The Sons of Light.
2 Out of great distress they came;

Washed their robes by faith below
In the blood of Christ, the Lamb,

Blood that washes white as snow. Therefore are they next the throne,

Serve their Maker day and night; God resides among His own,

God doth in His saints delight. 3 More than conquerors at last,

Here they find their trials o'er; They have all their sufferings passed,

Hunger now and thirst no more; No excessive heat they feel

From the sun's directer ray; In a milder clime they dwell,

Region of eternal day. 4. He that on the throne doth reign,

Them the Lamb shall always feed, With the tree of life sustain,

To the living fountains lead; He shall all their sorrows chase,

All their wants at once remove; Wipe the tears from every face; Fill up every soul with love. Rew Charles Wesley. (1708-1788.) 1745.


the dy · ing God.

1369 Saints and Angels before the Throne.
I LIFT your eyes of faith, and see

Saints and angels joined in one;
What a countless company

Stand before yon dazzling throne.
Each before his Saviour stands,

All in milk-white robes arrayed;
Palms they carry in their hands,

Crowns of glory on their head. 2 Saints, begin the endless song,

Cry aloud, in heavenly lays,
Glory doth to God belong,

God the glorious Saviour praise;
All salvation from Him came,

Him who reigns enthroned on high;
Glory to the bleeding Lamb,

Let the morning stars reply.
3 Angel powers the throne surround;

Next the saints in glory they;
Lulled with the transporting sound,

They their silent homage pay;
Prostrate on their face, before

God and His Messiah fall;
Then in hymns of praise adore,
Shout the Lamb that died for all.

Rev. Charles Wesley. 1745, ab.


Jean Maria Giornovichi. (1745-1804)

1. 'O MOTHER dear, Je-ru - salem, When shall I come to thee?

When shall my sorrows

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1370 O Mother dear, Jerusalem."


Resigned to Death. 2 No dimming cloud o'ershadows thee, 1 AND let this feeble body fail, Nor gloom, nor darksome night;

And let it faint or die, But every soul shines as the sun,

My soul shall quit the mournful vale, For God Himself gives light.

And soar to worlds on high; Thy walls are made of precious stone, Shall join the disembodied saints, Thy bulwarks diamond-square,

And find its long-sought rest,
Thy gates are all of orient pearl:

That only bliss for which it pants,
O God, if I were there!

In my Redeemer's breast.
3 Right thro' thy streets with pleasing sound 2 O what hath Jesus bought for me!
The flood of life doth flow,

Before my ravished eyes
And on the banks, on either side,

Rivers of life divine I see,
The trees of life do grow.

And trees of Paradise:
Those trees each month yield ripened fruit; I see a world of spirits bright,
For evermore they spring,

Who reap the pleasures there; And all the nations of the earth

They all are robed in spotless white, To thee their honors bring.

And conquering palms they bear. 4 There the blest souls that hardly 'scaped

3 O what are all my sufferings here, The snare of death and hell,

If, Lord, Thou count me meet Triumph in joy eternally,

With that enraptured host to appear, Whereof no tongue can tell.

And worship at Thy feet ! O mother dear, Jerusalem,

Give joy or grief, give ease or pain, When shall I come to thee?

Take life or friends away, When shall my sorrows have an end?

I come, to find them all again
'Thy joys when shall I see?

In that eternal day.
Rev. Francis Baker. 1616. alt.
Rev. David Dickson. (1583—1663.) 1649. ab.

Rev. Charles Wesley. (1708–1788.) 1759.


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13 One narrow vale, one darksome wave, "Jerusalem, my happy Home."

Divides that land from this: 2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls

I have a Shepherd pledged to save
And pearly gates behold;

And bear me home to bliss.
Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?

4. Soon at His feet my soul will lie

In life's last struggling breath; 30 when, thou City of my God,

But I shall only seem to die,
Shall I thy courts ascend,

I shall not taste of death.
Where congregations ne'er break up,
And Sabbaths have no end?

5 Far from this guilty world to be

Exempt from toil and strife, 4 There happier bowers than Eden's bloom,

To spend eternity with Thee, Nor sin nor sorrow know:

My Saviour, this is life. Blest seats, through rude and stormy scenes

Bp. John East. 1836. ab. I onward press to you.

Heaven invisible and holy. 5 Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there


1 Cor. ii. 9, 10. Rev. xxi. 27. Around my Saviour stand;

1 Nor eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard, And soon my friends in Christ below

Nor sense, nor reason known, Will join the glorious band.

What joys the Father has prepared, 6 Jerusalem, my happy home,

For those that love the Son. My soul still pants for thee;

2 But the good Spirit of the Lord Then shall my labors have an end

Reveals a heaven to come; When I thy joys shall see.

The beams of glory in His word Unknown. Williams and Boden's Collection. 1801. ab.

Allure and guide us home. 1373 The heavenly Folch

3 Pure are the joys above the sky, i There is a fold, whence none can stray,

And all the region peace; And pastures ever green,

No wanton lips, nor envious eye, Where sultry sun, or stormy day,

Can see or taste the bliss. Or night is never seen.

4 Those holy gates for ever bar 2 Far up the everlasting hills,

Pollution, sin, and shame; In God's own light it lies;

None shall obtain admittance there His smile its vast dimension fills

But followers of the Lamb. With joy that never dies.

Rev. Isaac Watts (1674-1748.) 1709. ab.

Bp. Alexander L'wing. (- 3873.) 1861.

EWING. 7,6. D.

1. Brief life is here our portion; Brief sorrow,short-lived care; The life that knows no ending, The tearless life, is there.

o happy ret-ri- bu- tion: Short toil, e-ter-nal rest; For mortals and for sin - ners A mansion with the blest.

1375 " Hic breve vivitur."
2 And now we fight the battle,

But then shall wear the crown
Of full and everlasting

And passionless renown.
But He whom now we trust in

Shall then be seen and known;
And they that know and see Him

Shall have Him for their own. 3 The morning shall awaken,

The shadows shall decay, And each true-hearted servant

Shall shine as doth the day. There God our King and Portion,

In fulness of His grace, Shall we behold forever, And worship face to face.

Bernard of Cluny. c. 1145. Tr. by Rev. John Mason Neale. (1818-1866.) 1851. alt. 1376

O bona Patria." i For thee, O dear, dear Country,

Mine eyes their vigils keep; For very love, beholding

Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory

Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness,

And love, and life, and rest. 2 O one, O only Mansion,

O Paradise of joy,
Where tears are ever banished,

And smiles have no alloy;
The Lamb is all thy splendor,

The Crucified thy praise;

His laud and benediction

Thy ransomed people raise. 3 With jasper glow thy bulwarks,

Thy streets with emerald blaze; The sardius and the topaz

Unite in thee their rays;
Thine ageless walls are bonded

With amethyst unpriced;
The saints build up its fabric,

And the Corner-stone is Christ. 4 Thou hast no shore, fair ocean;

Thou hast no time, bright day:
Dear fountain of refreshment

To pilgrims far away.
Upon the Rock of Ages

They raise thy holy tower;
Thine is the victor's laurel,
And thine the golden dower.

Bernard of Cluny, c. 1145 Tr. by Rev. John Mason Neale. 1851. alt

1377 Uros Syon aurea."
1 JERUSALEM the golden,

With milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation

Sink heart and voice oppresst:
I know not, o I know not

What social joys are there;
What radiancy of glory,

What light beyond compare. 2 They stand, those halls of Zion,

All jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel,

And all the martyr throng:

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