Those helps which I through him enjoyed, | If a star were confined into a tomb, Let Thy continual aid supply Her captive flames must needs burn there, That, though some hopes in him are void, But when the hand that locked her up gives No more the drops of piercing grief Shall swell into mine eyes, Nor the meridian sun decline Amidst those brighter skies. There all the millions of His saints. Shall in one song unite, And each the bliss of all shall view With infinite delight. PHILIP DODDRIDGE. THE HEAVENLY CANAAN. THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers; Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours. Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood But timorous mortals start and shrink Oh! could we make our doubts remove, Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er, Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, Should fright us from the shore. ISAAO WATTS. THE NEW JERUSALEM; OR, THE SOUL'S BREATHING AFTER THE HEA ENLY COUNTRY. Since Christ's fair truth needs no man's art, Take this rude song in better part." O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem, When shall I come to thee? When shall my sorrows have an endThy joys when shall I see? O happy harbor of God's saints! O sweet and pleasant soil! In thee no sorrows can be foundNo grief, no care, no toil. In thee no sickness is at all, No hurt, nor any sore; There is no death nor ugly night, But life for evermore. No dimming cloud o'ershadows thee, No cloud nor darksome night, But every soul shines as the sunFor God himself gives light. There lust and lucre cannot dwell, There envy bears no sway; Would God I were in thee! No pains, no pangs, no grieving grief, No sigh, no sob, no cry is heard- No well-away, no fear. Jerusalem the city is Of God our king alone; The lamb of God, the light thereof, Sits there upon His throne. O God! that I Jerusalem With speed may go behold! For why? the pleasures there abound Thy turrets and thy pinnacles NCEA THE NEW JERUSALEM. 789 Thy houses are of ivory, Thy windows crystal clear, Thy walls are made of precious stone, And end my griefs and plaints— And place me with Thy saints! Who there are crowned with glory great, And see God face to face, They triumph still, and aye rejoice Most happy is their case. But we that are in banishment, Continually do moan; We sign, we mourn, we sob, we weepPerpetually we groan. Our sweetness mixed is with gall, Our pleasures are but pain, Our joys not worth the looking on Our sorrows aye remain. Such pleasure and such play, O my sweet home, Jerusalem! Thy joys when shall I see- Thy vineyards, and thy orchards, Are furnished with all kinds of fruit, Thy gardens and thy goodly walks, There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers There cinnamon and sugar grow, There nard and balm abound; No tongue can tell, no heart can think, There nectar and ambrosia spring- There many a fair and dainty thing Quite through the streets, with pleasant sound, The flood of life doth flow; Upon the banks, on every side, The trees of life do grow. These trees each month yield ripened fruit For evermore they spring; Oh! that my sorrows had an end, There David stands, with harp in hand, A thousand times that man were blest "Te Deum" doth St. Ambrose sing, Have not their songs to seek. Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Thy joys fain would I see; Come quickly, Lord, and end my grief, And take me home to Thee; Oh! paint Thy name on my forehead, And take me hence away, That I may dwell with Thee in bliss, And sing Thy praises aye. Jerusalem, the happy home- O comely queen with glory clad, All fair thou art, exceeding bright No spot there is in thee! I long to see Jerusalem, None ill can thee befall. No darkness dare appear No night, no shade, no winter foul No time doth alter there. No candle needs, no moon to shine, No glittering star to light; In midst His servants' sight; Of citizens, which hence are rid There doth the crew of righteous men Young men and maids that here on earth The sheep and lambs, that hardly 'scaped Whereof no tongue can tell; Yet is the joy of all alike And common, as we see. They love, they praise they praise, they love; They "Holy, holy," cry; They neither toil, nor faint, nor end, But laud continually. Oh! happy thousand times were 1, If, after wretched days, I might with listening cars conceive By happy wights above- Oh! passing happy were my state, "O Father dear," quoth be, "let them Which Thou hast put of old To me, be there where lo! I am Thy glory to behold; Which I with Thee, before the world Have had--from whence the fountain great Again: "If any man will serve Thee, let him follow me; For where I am, he there, right sure, Then shall my servant be." And still: "If any man loves me, Him loves my father dear, Whom I do love-to him myself In glory will appear." Lord, take away my misery, My love, my Lord, my allWhere now as in a glass I see, There face to face I shall. |