 | A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems |  |
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AND THEY SUNG A NEW SONG.
Hear what the Saint in solemn dream was shown
Thro' Heaven's own Gates of Gold;
He saw them standing by the great White Throne;
He heard their raptures roll'd!
Christ was the Sun of that new firmament,
And there was no more night,
While thro' the golden City harping went
The glorious all in white.
Thro' Heaven's own Gates of Gold;
He saw them standing by the great White Throne;
He heard their raptures roll'd!
Christ was the Sun of that new firmament,
And there was no more night,
While thro' the golden City harping went
The glorious all in white.
These, out of their great tribulation, came
To bow before the Throne!
These lifted up their foreheads from the flame
And by His name were known!
Some on the rack were living witnesses,
And many fell a-field;
But Christ did greet His Martyrs with a kiss,
And all their hurts were heal'd.
To bow before the Throne!
These lifted up their foreheads from the flame
And by His name were known!
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And many fell a-field;
But Christ did greet His Martyrs with a kiss,
And all their hurts were heal'd.
These had to wrestle with wild waves of strife,
Long ere they reach'd that shore
Where they at last have won the crowns of life
They wear for evermore.
There do they drink of Life's all-healing Stream,
And quench their thirst of years;
All star-like now the precious jewels gleam,
They sow'd on Earth as tears.
Long ere they reach'd that shore
Where they at last have won the crowns of life
They wear for evermore.
There do they drink of Life's all-healing Stream,
And quench their thirst of years;
All star-like now the precious jewels gleam,
They sow'd on Earth as tears.
Help us, O Lord, to reach that Better Land,
Afar from sorrow and sin,
And join that Blessed band all harp-in-hand,
All safe with Christ shut in.
Feeble and poor the songs we sing! at most,
Some selfish Prayer we raise;
While the white Harpers on that Heavenly coast,
Hymn everlasting Praise.
Afar from sorrow and sin,
And join that Blessed band all harp-in-hand,
All safe with Christ shut in.
Feeble and poor the songs we sing! at most,
Some selfish Prayer we raise;
While the white Harpers on that Heavenly coast,
Hymn everlasting Praise.
| A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems | |