This would be heaven-e'en this alone- See Him who once was crucified. Absorbed in love-the love of God- And there I hope to sing away With Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. IRONS. THE CHURCH ABOVE. HARK! how the choir around the throne They drink full draughts of bliss unknown, They range o'er heaven's unmeasured plain, And find new cause for praise; See more of Jesus, and again Their hallelujahs raise. Anon the pearly gates unfold; An heir of bliss draws nigh; Again they strike their harps of gold, And hallelujah cry. Another sinner, born of God, Makes the vast concave ring; Again they Jesu's love record, And hallelujah sing. At last the ransomed throng complete, Is glorified throughout; Again they bow at Jesu's feet, And hallelujah shout. Ere long I hope to join the throng And to their everlasting song My hallelujah bring. IRONS. THE SHIP. ON life's tempestuous ocean glides 'Midst rocks, and shoals, and swelling tides, She spreads her sails abroad. Her mariners Jehovah chose, Sinners to take on board. Truth is her compass, love her sail, And heavenly grace her store The Spirit's influence the gale That wafts her to the shore. Nor winds nor waves her progress check, Her course she must pursue; And though she often fears a wreck, On boards and broken pieces tost, Each soul to Christ the Lord is given, The vessel is insured in heaven, And God will make it good. IRONS. SUBMISSION. THERE is a secret in the ways of God With His own children, which none others know, What will it be to see Him as He is, Come, then, affliction, if my Father bids, And be my frowning friend. A friend that frowns We welcome clouds which bring the former rain, SWAINE. HEAVEN. I LOVE to think of heaven, where I shall meet SWAINE. CHRISTIANS, LOOK HOMEWARD! DRAW near, O ye blessed, and help me to sing When soon you shall meet your dear Shepherd and King, To weep in this desert no more. Oh think with what rapturous shouts we shall rise, To join with the glorified choirs, When Jesus' bright chariot appears in the skies, And death at His coming expires! When, "Come, O ye blessed!" sounds sweet in our ears, What place will be found for our doubts and our fears No more shall the wicked our comforts annoy, Nor conscience from guilt feel a wound; No passions unholy our bosoms shall move, Look up, ye dejected, and weep as you go, Cast down your sad willows, and sing while below |