Joy and gladness banish sighs;
Perfect love dispels all fear;
And for ever from their eyes
God shall wipe away the tear.

The Saints in Heaven.

ISAAC WATTS AND W. CAMERON.

HOW bright those glorious spirits shine!

Whence all their white array?

How came they to the blissful seats
Of everlasting day?

Lo, these are they from sufferings great
Who came to realms of light:

And in the blood of Christ have wash'd
Those robes which shine so bright.

Now with triumphal palms they stand
Before the throne on high,

And serve the God they love amidst
The glories of the sky.

His presence fills each heart with joy,
Tunes every mouth to sing;
By day, by night, the sacred courts
With glad hosannas ring.

Hunger and thirst are felt no more,
Nor suns with scorching ray;

God is their Sun, whose cheering beams
Diffuse eternal day.

O Happy Saints.

The Lamb, who reigns upon the throne,

Shall o'er them still preside,

Feed them with nourishment divine,
And all their footsteps guide.

'Mid pastures green He'll lead His flock,

Where living streams appear; And God the Lord from every eye Shall wipe off every tear.

D Happy Saints.

JOHN BERRIDGE.

HAPPY saints, who dwell in light,

And walk with Jesus, clothed in white;

Safe landed on that peaceful shore,

Where pilgrims meet to part no more.

Released from sin, and toil, and grief,
Death was their gate to endless life;
An open'd cage, to let them fly
And build their happy nest on high.

And now they range the heavenly plains,
And sing their hymns in melting strains;
And now their souls begin to prove
The heights and depths of Jesus' love.

He cheers them with eternal smile;
They sing hosannas all the while;
Or, overwhelm'd with rapture sweet,
Sink down adoring at His feet.

349

Ah, Lord! with tardy steps I creep,
And sometimes sing, and sometimes weep;
Yet strip me of this house of clay,
And I will sing as loud as they.

J

Jerusalem, my Happy Home.

ANONYMOUS.

ERUSALEM, my happy home!

Name ever dear to me !

When shall my labours have an end,

In joy, and peace, and thee?

When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls

And pearly gates behold;

Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,

And streets of shining gold?

Oh when, thou city of my God,
Shall I thy courts ascend;
Where congregations ne'er break up
And Sabbaths have no end?

Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there

Around my Saviour stand;
And soon my friends in Christ below
Will join the glorious band.

Jerusalem, my happy home!

My soul still pants for thee;

Then shall my labours have an end,
When I thy joys shall see.

Christ's Followers.

351

Praise the Lord.

REV. HENRY FRANCIS LYTE.

PRAISE the Lord, His glories show,

Saints within His courts below,

Angels round His throne above,

All that see and share His love.
Earth to heaven, and heaven to earth,
Tell His wonders, sing His worth
Age to age, and shore to shore,
Praise Him, praise Him, evermore !

Praise the Lord, His mercies trace;
Praise His providence and grace,
All that He for man hath done,
All He sends us through His Son :
Strings and voices, hands and hearts,
In the concert bear your parts;
All that breathe, your Lord adore,
Praise Him, praise Him, evermore !

Christ's Followers.

BISHOP REGINALD HEBER.

HE Son of God goes forth to war,

THE

A kingly crown to gain ;

His blood-red banner streams afar:
Who follows in His train?

Who best can drink His cup of

Triumphant over pain,

woe,

Who patient bears His cross below,

He follows in His train.

The martyr, first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave;
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And call'd on Him to save.

Like Him, with pardon on his tongue,
In midst of mortal pain,

He pray'd for them that did the wrong:
Who follows in his train?

A glorious band, the chosen few,
On whom the Spirit came;

Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
And mock'd the cross and flame.

They met the tyrant's brandish'd steel,

The lion's gory mane;

They bow'd their necks the death to feel: Who follows in their train?

A noble army, men and boys,
The matron and the maid,
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice,
In robes of light array'd.

They climb'd the steep ascent of heaven,
Through peril, toil, and pain;

O God! to us may grace be given

To follow in their train!