Where pilgrims, freed from toil, are blest! Had I the pinions of the dove,
I'd fly to thee, and be at rest.
But hush, my soul, nor dare repine!
The time my God appoints is best:
While here, to do his will be mine;
And His to fix my time of rest.
WHEN the dangerous rocks are past,-
When the threatening tempests cease,-
Oh! how sweet to rest at last
In a silent port of peace.
Though that port may be unknown,
Though no chart its name may bear;
Brightly beams its light on one,
Blest to find his refuge there.
Life! thou art the storm-the rock;
Death! the friendly port thou art ;—
Haven from the tempest's shock,
Welcoming the wanderer's heart.
O ZION! when I think on thee,
I long for pinions like the dove,
And mourn to think that I should be
So distant from the place I love.
A captive here, and far from home,
For Zion's sacred walls I sigh;
To Zion all the ransomed come,
And see the Saviour eye to eye.
While here, I walk on hostile ground,
The few that I can call my
friends
Are, like myself, with fetters bound,
And weariness our steps attends.
But yet we shall behold the day,
When Zion's children shall return;
Our sorrows then shall flee away,
And we shall never, never mourn.
The hope that such a day will come,
Makes even the captive's portion sweet;
Though now we wander far from home,
In Zion soon we all shall meet.
DEATHLESS principle, arise!
Soar, thou native of the skies!
Pearl of price, by Jesus bought,
To His glorious likeness wrought,
Go, to shine before His throne;
Deck his Mediatorial crown.
Go, His triumphs to adorn;
Made for God, to God return.
Lo! He beckons from on High! Fearless to His presence fly: Thine the merit of His blood, Thine the righteousness of God! Angels, joyful to attend,
Hov'ring, round thy pillow bend; Wait, to catch the signal given, And escort thee quick to heaven.
Is thy earthly house distrest,
Willing to retain its guest?
'Tis not thou, but it, must die.
Fly, celestial tenant, fly!
Burst thy shackles, drop thy clay,
Sweetly breathe thyself away!
Singing, to thy crown remove,
Swift of wing, and fir'd with love.
Shudder not to pass the stream;
Venture all thy care on Him-
Him, whose dying love and power
Still'd its tossing, hush'd its roar.
Safe is the expanded wave:
Gentle as a summer's eve.
Not one object of His care
Ever suffer'd shipwreck there.
See the haven full in view!
Love divine shall bear thee through.
Trust to that propitious gale;
Weigh thy anchor, spread thy sail.
Saints in glory, perfect made,
Wait thy passage through the shade:
Ardent for thy coming o'er,
See! they throng the blissful shore!
"I HEAR thee speak of the better land;
Thou callest its children a happy band:
Mother! oh! where is that radiant shore?-
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?—
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle bows?" "-Not there-not there, my child!"
"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze;
And strange bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"
"Not there-not there, my child!"
"Is it far away, in some region old,
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ?—
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand,
Is it there, sweet mother,-that better land?"
"Not there-not there, my child!"
"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair—
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time does not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there-it is there, my child!”
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