8 Then, fail this earth, let stars decline, We’ll be gathered home; And sun and moon refuse to shine, We’ll be gathered home.
9 All nature sink and cease to be, We’ll be gathered home; That heavenly mansion stands for me, We’ll be gathered home.
1125 L. M. 1 Pet. 1:4.
There is a region lovelier far Than sages tell or poets sing— Brighter than summer’s beauties are, And softer than the tints of spring. CHORUS. I’m going home, I’m going home, I’m going home to die no more, To die no more, to die no more, I’m going home to die no more.
2 It is all holy and serene, The land of glory and repose; No cloud obscures the radiant scene; There not a tear of sorrow flows.
1126 C. M. They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy. Psalm 126:5.
There is an hour of hallowed peace For those with care oppressed, When sighs and sorrowing tears shall cease, And all be hushed to rest.
2 ’Tis then the soul is freed from fears And doubts which here annoy; Then they that oft had sown in tears, Shall reap again in joy.
3 There is a home of sweet repose, Where storms assail no more; The stream of endless pleasure flows, On that celestial shore.
4 There purity with love appears, And bliss without alloy; There they that oft had sown in tears Shall reap again in joy.
1127 C. M. D. There’s music in the upper heaven.
There’s music in the upper heaven— The choral notes that swell, Are sweeter, fuller, richer far, Than human lips can tell; When rings the gush of golden harps, And heavenly lutes are swept, To tell the quenchless love of him Who o’er a lost world wept.
2 The gliding rush of countless wings, Borne on the swelling breeze, That wafts the rustling music by, Amid embowered trees; The echo of the myriad feet, That fall on pavements fair, Of glittering dazzling gold that gleams In untold brightness there.
3 The music of the pearly gates, When back by angels flung, Admitting there a ransomed soul, Their sinless bands among; The silvery sound that’s swelling up, When flows the stream of life; The rustle of the emerald leaf, With healing virtues rife:
4 And then the tide of melody That swells and bursts, when rings The new song in that far-off world, That thrilling rapture brings: But, awed, we may not note its power, Its depths we may not sound; Unfathomed, fathomless it rolls In glorious might around.
1128 C. M. Earnestly desiring. 2 Cor. 5:2.
O could our thoughts and wishes fly Above these gloomy shades, To those bright worlds beyond the sky, Which sorrow ne’er invades!
2 There joys, unseen by mortal eyes, Or reason’s feeble ray, In ever-blooming prospect rise, Unconscious of decay.
3 Lord, send a beam of light divine, To guide our upward aim! With one reviving touch of thine, Our languid hearts inflame.
4 Then shall, on faith’s sublimest wing, Our ardent wishes rise To those bright scenes where pleasures spring, Immortal to the skies.
1129 C. M. There is a land, a happy land.
There is a land, a happy land Where tears are wiped away From every eye, by God’s own hand, And night is turned to day.
2 There is a home, a happy home, Where way-worn travelers rest, Where toil and languor never come, And every mourner’s blest.
3 There is a port, a peaceful port, A safe and quiet shore, Where weary mariners resort And fear the storms no more.
4 There is a crown, a dazzling crown, Bedecked with jewels fair; And priests and kings of high renown, That crown of glory wear.
5 That land be mine, that calm retreat, That crown of glory bright; Then I’ll esteem each bitter sweet, And every burden light.
1130 8s & 6s. The hope—laid up for you in heaven. Col. 1:5.
There is an hour of peaceful rest, To mourning wanderers given; There is a tear for souls distressed, A balm for every wounded breast— ’Tis found above—in heaven.
2 There is a home for weary souls, By sins and sorrows driven; When tossed on life’s tempestuous shoals, Where storms arise and ocean rolls, And all is drear—but heaven.
3 There faith lifts up the tearless eye, The heart with anguish riven; It views the tempest passing by, Sees evening shadows quickly fly, And all serene—in heaven.
4 There fragrant flowers immortal bloom, And joys supreme are given; There rays divine disperse the gloom; Beyond the dark and narrow tomb Appears the dawn—of heaven.
1131 C. M. Rev. 15:2, 3.
Hark! hark! the voice of ceaseless praise, Around Jehovah’s throne; Songs of celestial joy they raise, To mortal lips unknown.
2 Upon the sea of glass they stand In shining robes of light; The harps of God are in their hand, They rest not day or night.