457.
Prospect of Heaven.
1
Desponding soul! no more complain,
Thou, with thy Lord, shalt live and reign,
And now the hour is nigh;
A few more troubles, toils, and cares,
And thou, the joy that seraph shares,
Shalt taste in yonder sky.
2
Thought hath not reach'd, nor heart conceived,
E'en faith herself hath scarce believed,
The bliss, prepared, above,
For those who live like strangers here;
True servants, who Jehovah fear,
And Christ obey, and love.
3
Beyond the withering scenes of time,
There is a heritage sublime,
To which the just aspire;
Which will survive that dreadful day,
When all things here shall pass away,
Wrapp'd in devouring fire.
4
Then the new world its head shall rear,
(Which solaced many a pilgrim here,)
When Satan's power shall fall;
When righteousness, the reign of grace!
Shall fill th' immeasurable space,
And God be all in all!
5
Freely redeem'd from death and hell,
May we that grand assemblage swell,
Whose chorus, loud and long,
(While worshipping the great “I Am,)”
Ascribes salvation to the Lamb,
The theme of every song.
