4 All o’er these wide, extended plains, Shines one eternal day; There God, the Son, for ever reigns, And scatters night away.
5 No chilling winds nor poisonous breath Can reach that healthful shore; Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, Are felt and feared no more.
6 When shall I reach that happy place, And be for ever blest! When shall I see my Father’s face, And in his bosom rest!
7 Filled with delight, my raptured soul Would here no longer stay; Though Jordan’s waves around me roll, Fearless I’d launch away.
432 C. M. Hope in trouble.
When musing sorrow weeps the past, And mourns the present pain, ’Tis sweet to think of peace at last, And feel that death is gain.
2 ’Tis not that murmuring thoughts arise, And dread a Father’s will; ’Tis not that meek submission flies, And would not suffer still.
3 It is that heaven-born faith surveys The path that leads to light, And longs her eagle plumes to raise, And lose herself in sight.
4 It is that troubled conscience feels The pangs of struggling sin, And sees, though far, the hand that heals, And ends the strife within.
5 O, let me wing my hallowed flight From earth-born woe and care, And soar above these clouds of night, My Saviour’s bliss to share.
433 C. M. Light in darkness.
O there’s a better world on high; Hope on, thou pious breast; Faint not, thou traveler; on the sky Thy weary feet shall rest.
2 Anguish may rend each vital part; Poor man, thy strength how frail! Yet heaven’s own strength shall shield thy heart, When flesh and heart shall fail.
3 Through death’s dark vale, of deepest shade, Thy feet must surely go; Yet there, e’en there, walk undismayed; ’Tis thy last scene of woe.
4 Thy God—and with the tenderest hand— Shall guard the traveler through; “Hail!” shalt thou cry: “hail! promised land! And, wilderness, adieu!”
5 O Father, make our souls thy care, And bring us safe to thee; Where’er thou art—we ask not where— But there ’tis heaven to be.
434 C. M. Abiding in hope.
Since I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
2 Should earth against my soul engage, And fiery darts be hurled, Then I would smile at Satan’s rage, And face a frowning world.
3 Let cares, like a wild deluge, come, And storms of sorrow fall, May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all.
4 There shall I bathe my weary soul In seas of heavenly rest; And not a wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast.
435 C. M. God our only hope.
When reft of all, and hopeless care Would sink us to the tomb, What power shall save us from despair, What dissipate the gloom?
2 No balm that earthly plants distill Can soothe the mourner’s smart, No mortal hand, with lenient skill, Bind up the broken heart.
3 But One alone, who reigns above, Our woe to joy can turn, And light the lamp of life and love, That long has ceased to burn.
4 Then, O my soul! to that One flee, To God thy woes reveal; His eye alone thy wounds can see, His power alone can heal.
436 C. M. Hope thou in God. Psalm 42:5.
My soul! triumphant in the Lord, Proclaim thy joys abroad, And march with holy vigor on, Supported by thy God.
2 Through every winding maze of life, His hand has been my guide; And in his long-experienced care, My heart shall still confide.
3 His grace through all the desert flows, An unexhausted stream; That grace, on Zion’s sacred mount, Shall be my endless theme.
4 Beyond the choicest joys of time, Thy courts on earth I love; But O! I burn with strong desire To view thy house above.
5 There, joined with all the shining band, My soul would thee adore; A pillar in thy temple fixed, To be removed no more.
437 8s & 4s. Vain world, adieu.
When for eternal worlds we steer, And seas are calm, and skies are clear, And faith, in lively exercise, Sees distant fields of Canaan rise, The soul for joy then spreads her wings, And loud her lovely sonnet sings, Vain world, adieu.
2 With cheerful hope, her eyes explore Each land-mark on the distant shore, The trees of life, the pastures green, The golden streets, the crystal stream; Again for joy she spreads her wings, And loud her lovely sonnet sings, I’m going home.
3 The nearer still she draws to land, More eager all her powers expand; With steady helm, and free bent sail, Her anchor drops within the vail; And now for joy she folds her wings, And her celestial sonnet sings, I’m safe at home.
438 C. M. Hope maketh not ashamed. Rom. 5:5.