Joy and gladness banish sighs; 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 Lo, these are they from sufferings great And in the blood of Christ have wash'd Now with triumphal palms they stand And serve the God they love amidst His presence fills each heart with joy, Hunger and thirst are felt no more, God is their Sun, whose cheering beams O Happy Saints. The Lamb, who reigns upon the throne, Shall o'er them still preside, Feed them with nourishment divine, '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, And now they range the heavenly plains, He cheers them with eternal smile; 349 Ah, Lord! with tardy steps I creep, 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, Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there Around my Saviour stand; Jerusalem, my happy home! My soul still pants for thee; Then shall my labours have an end, 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. Praise the Lord, His mercies trace; 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 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 Like Him, with pardon on his tongue, He pray'd for them that did the wrong: A glorious band, the chosen few, Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew, 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, They climb'd the steep ascent of heaven, O God! to us may grace be given To follow in their train! |