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;

Bless'd seats! through rude and stormy scenes I onward press to you.

4 Why should I shrink from pain and wo,
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.

HYMN

414.

P. M.

[ERUSALEM! high tow'r thy glorious walls! Would God I were in thee!

JE

Desire of thee my longing heart enthrals,

Desire at home to be:

Wide from the world outleaping,

O'er hill and vale and plain, My soul's strong wing is sweeping, Thy portals to attain.

2 O gladsome day, and yet more gladsome hour! When shall that hour have come,

When my rejoicing soul its own free pow'r
May use in going home?

Itself to Jesus giving,

In trust to His own hand,
To dwell among the living,
In that blest Fatherland.

3 A moment's time, the twinkling of an eye
Shall be enough, to soar

In buoyant exultation, through the sky
And reach the heav'nly shore.
Elijah's chariot bringing

The homeward trav'ller there;
Glad troops of angels winging
It onward through the air.

4 Great fastness thou of honour! thee I greet!
Throw wide thy gracious gate,
An entrance free to give these longing feet;
At last released, though late,
From wretchedness and sinning,
And life's long weary way;
And now, of God's gift, winning
Eternity's bright day.

5 What throng is this, what noble troop, that

pours,

Array'd in beauteous guise,

Out through the glorious city's open doors,
To greet my wond'ring eyes?

The host of Christ's elected,
The jewels that He bears
In His own crown, selected
To wipe away my tears.

6 Of prophets great, and patriarchs high, a band
That once has borne the cross,
With all the company that won that land,
By counting gain for loss,
Now float in freedom's lightness,
From tyrant's chains set free;
And shine like suns in brightness,
Array'd to welcome me.

7 One more at last arriv'd they welcome there, To beauteous Paradise;

Where sense can scarce its full fruition bear

Or tongue for praise suffice;

Glad hallelujahs ringing

With rapturous rebound,

And rich hosannahs singing

Eternity's long round.

8 Unnumber'd choirs before the Lamb's high throne There shout the jubilee,

With loud resounding peal and sweetest tone, In blissful ecstasy:

A hundred thousand voices

Take up the wondrous song;

Eternity rejoices

God's praises to prolong.

HYMN

415.

II. 6.

T

thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep; For very love, beholding

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

Is unction to the breast,
And medicine in sickness,
And love, and life, and rest.

2 Brief life is here our portion,
Brief sorrow, short-lived care;
The life that knows no ending,
The tearless life, is there.
Oh! happy retribution !

Short toil, eternal rest;

For mortals and for sinners
A mansion with the blest.

3 That we should look, poor wanderers,
To have our home on high !
That worms should hope for dwellings
Beyond the starry sky!

That we who fight the battle

Should then put on the crown

Of full, and everlasting,

And passionless renown!

4 O one, O only mansion!

O paradise of joy!

Whence tears are ever banish'd,
Where bliss has no alloy:

.

O garden free from sorrow!
O plains that fear no strife!
O princely bowers, all blooming!
O realm and home of life!

5 With jaspers 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.

6 They stand, those halls of Zion,
Reverberant with song; -
And bright with many an angel,
With many a martyr throng.
The Prince is ever in them,
The light is aye serene,
The pastures of the blessed

Are decked in glorious sheen.

7 There is the throne of David; And there, from toil releas'd, The shout of them that triumph, The song of them that feast: And they, beneath their Leader, Who conquer'd in the fight, Forever and forever

Are clad in robes of white.

8 I know not, Oh! I know not,
What social joys are there;
What pure, unfading glory,
What light beyond compare.