Oh where can the soul find relief from its foes? A shelter of safety, a home of repose? Can earth’s highest summit, or deepest hid vale, Give a refuge, nor sorrow, nor sin can assail? No, no! there’s no home! There’s no home on earth—the soul has no home.
2 Shall it leave the low earth, and soar to the sky, And seek for a home in the mansions on high! In the bright realms of bliss will a dwelling be given, And the soul find a home in the glory of heaven? Yes, yes! there’s a home! There’s a home in high heaven—the soul has a home.
3 O! holy and sweet its rest shall be there! Free for ever from sin, and from sorrow and care; And the loud hallelujahs of angels shall rise, To welcome the soul to its home in the skies! Home, home! home of the soul! The bosom of God is the home of the soul!
1167 P. M. Ever-green mountains.
There’s a land far away, ’mid the stars, we are told, Where they know not the sorrows of time, Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold, And where life is a treasure sublime; ’Tis the land of our God—’tis the home of the soul, Where the ages of splendor eternally roll: Where the way-weary traveler reaches his goal, On the ever-green mountains of life.
2 Here our gaze can not soar to that beautiful land, But our visions have told of its bliss, And our souls by the gale from its gardens are fanned, When we faint in the deserts of this; And we sometimes have longed for its holy repose, When our spirits were torn with temptation and woes, And we’ve drank from the tide of the river that flows From the ever-green mountains of life.
3 O the stars never tread the blue heavens by night, But we think where the ransomed have trod, And the day never smiles from his palace of light, But we feel the bright smiles of our God. We are traveling homeward thro’ changes and gloom, To a kingdom where pleasures unchangingly bloom; And our guide is the glory that shines thro’ the tomb From the ever-green mountains of life.
1168 P. M. Within the vail. Heb. 6:19.
Upon the frontier of this shadowy land We, pilgrims of eternal sorrow, stand: What realm lies forward, with its happier store Of forests green and deep, Of valleys hushed in sleep, And lakes most peaceful? ’Tis the land of Evermore.
2 Very far off its marble cities seem— Very far off—beyond our sensual dream— Its woods, unruffled by the wild wind’s roar: Yet does the turbulent surge Howl on its very verge. One moment—and we breathe within the Evermore.
3 They whom we loved and lost so long ago, Dwell in those cities far from mortal woe— Haunt those fresh woodlands, whence sweet carrollings soar. Eternal peace have they: God wipes their tears away: They drink that river of life which flows for Evermore.
4 Thither we hasten through these regions dim, But, lo! the wide wings of the seraphim Shine in the sunset! On that joyous shore Our lightened hearts shall know The life of long ago: The sorrow-burdened path shall fade for Evermore.
1169 10s. No night in heaven.
No night shall be in heaven! no gathering gloom Shall o’er that glorious landscape ever come; No tears shall fall in sadness o’er those flowers That breathe their fragrance through celestial bowers.
2 No night shall be in heaven! no dreadful hour Of mental darkness, of the tempter’s power— Across these skies no envious clouds shall roll, To dim the sunlight of the raptured soul.
3 No night shall be in heaven. Forbid to sleep, These eyes no more their mournful vigils keep; Their fountains dried—their tears all wiped away— They gaze undazzled on eternal day.
4 No night shall be in heaven—no sorrow’s reign; No secret anguish, no corporeal pain; No shivering limbs, no burning fever there; No soul’s eclipse, no winter of despair.
5 No night shall be in heaven, but endless noon— No fast declining sun, no waning moon: But there the Lamb shall yield perpetual light, ’Mid pastures green, and waters ever bright.