To thy regions, World-eternal,

Onward, onward, is my face;

Resting spot in vain I wish for,

Till in thee I find my place:

Death’s dark portal,

Though so dark I must pass through.

When death’s cold and turbid waters,

To their bosom me receive,

Who will dissipate the darkness,

Who my terror will relieve?

If my Saviour

Smile, then fear will flee away.

A weary pilgrim sat,

Above a gloomy stream,

A lamp he firmly held

Shed round a cheerful gleam:

It showed that river’s farther banks,

Crowded with wistful spirit ranks.

He cometh to the stream,

Adown a rough ravine,

The lamp still in his hand

By friends above is seen;

And friends beyond can see him come,

His lamp reveals him through the gloom.

Now mid the rushing tide,

The Faithful One he sees

With arms spread open wide,

To bear him into Peace:

And in the world where he is gone,

They need no lamp nor light of sun.

Down to that gloomy stream,

Creeps one in wild dismay;

The light of earthly joy

Fades gently, fades away:

There echo through the dismal shade,

Strange sounds by hideous monsters made.

The lamp he holds goes out—

O who can speak his pain!

For never shall he see

Its needed light again:

Victorious Death there boastful bides,

Twin Darkness his loud horror hides.

He lists with bated breath

Some friendly foot to hear,

With whispered word of hope,

Or lighted lamp draw near:

But foot of succour none doth sound,

While taunting demons sport around.

At length with piteous groan

He stumbles to the flood,—

A mortal made to know

The frowning love of God:

He sinks, he swims; now, all is o’er:

Hope must forsake him ever more.

A day for solemn trial

Of men is drawing near,

Who has the hidden substance,

Who dross, will then appear.

O God, let me experience

Upon my heart thy grace;

That is the stamp and image

Alone that day can pass.

Hark, hark! methinks I hear a voice,

Swift piercing through the troubled sky:

“He comes, He comes; ye saints rejoice;

The end, the end of time, is nigh!

Ye saints from dust awake, awake,

To joys immortal wing your flight:

Of crowns, and harps, and thrones partake,

They are your endless, blood-bought right.”

Lo! He comes on clouds of glory,

Circled by an angel-throng

Who proclaim His lofty titles

With their trumpets, loud and long.

Halleluiah,

Welcome, welcome, Son of Man!

Thousand thousands, myriad myriads

Bright attendants on the Lord,

See I rising from corruption,

At the mighty signal-word:

Farewell, sadness,

Full redemption now is come.

Now behold th’ exalted Shepherd

Calleth one by one his sheep;

Lo! they rise with joy to meet Him,

None in earth or ocean sleep.

Love unbounded,

Thou shalt henceforth ever reign.

There for sin is no upbraiding,

Nought but pardon full and free:

Nought but his deep love, and merit

Shall now unforgotten be;

Fear hath vanished,

Joy and rapture overflow.

“Come, ye faithful servants, enter,

Blessèd children of your God:

Come, receive eternal mansions,

Purchased for you with my blood!

Come and welcome,

Now my love is satisfied.”

Toward heaven, my Father’s home, I steer,

Tossed on the billowy flood:

A man that hath no purpose here

Save seeking for his God.

Let me not swerve to right or left,

Or of thy guidance tire;

Kept in the course that heavenward leads,

Through gulphs of flood and fire.

Opposing tempests beat me back,

And I have strength no more;

O take me, Jesus, in thine arms,

And bear to yonder shore.

Many dear ones are departed

To the grave’s dark silent land:

I shall soon receive the summons

There to lie amid the band;

Where they hear not

Any more sad earth’s complaints.

Blest are they who have expired

In the Lord, supremely blest!

In the port so oft desired

They for ever safely rest.

How much better,

There to sing than sigh with us!

My cup doth often while below,

With Marah’s waters overflow:

But care and grief which here annoy,

Above shall be absorbed in joy.

The fire of love within the breast

Is here but fond desire at best:

The faintest spark in heaven it knows

With an immortal ardour glows.

The joy for which I here can hope

Is but the small tormenting drop:

A fathomless, eternal sea

Of bliss shall there encompass me.

A distant clouded glimpse is all

That Faith on earth may vision call:

But unto Faith and Hope in heaven

Are prospect and possession given.

Crumbs are on earth our richest fare:

But banquets wait the pilgrim there.

Here cold and faint the songs we raise:

But deathless there will be our praise.

Here evening shades envelope me;

All darkness shall from Zion flee;

Without a veil it will be given

God face to face to see in Heaven.

I see a myriad saved,

Who once were faint as I;

Now they have climbed the rocky steeps,

And reign with Christ on high.

They sing on yonder side,

From doubt and sorrow free,

The praises of the bleeding Lamb,

The song of Calvary.

But begun will be the singing

Unto Jesus round His throne,

By the saved when tardy ages

With their songs and joys are flown:

And for ever,

Shall the golden harps resound.

There shall I rehearse the story,

How a weakling faint and worn,

Was o’er rocks and through deep waters,

To eternal glory borne:

Jesus wholly,

Shall absorb the songs of heaven,

Here I am a passing stranger,

Far away my native land;

O’er the wide and stormy ocean,

Where lies Canaan’s happy strand.

Raging storms of strong temptation

Drove me from my home astray:

Bear me, balmy southern breezes,

To its verdant shores away!

Spite of waves and counter-currents

Rolling o’er me from each side,

Through the seas and storms opposing,

I shall stem the swelling tide.

Than the floods thy word is stronger—

Stronger than the ’whelming wave:

All my hope I calmly venture

On thy promise, Lord, to save.

Not much longer must I battle

With the billows thus forlorn,

Land is nigh, each faithful promise

Shews how nigh Salvation’s morn.

Not the deep shall be my dwelling:—

Joyful shall my spirit come,

When the seas have cleansed and proved me,

To my loved eternal Home.

Yea, methinks I catch already

Fragrant perfumes from the land,

Wafted by celestial breezes;

Surely it is near at hand.

O could I its coast discover,

Blessed country free from strife;

There my dearest friends are dwelling,

There is everlasting life!

If there be holy contest

Who ought to sing the loudest

On plains of heaven;

Who most to Christ indebted,

Who loftiest exalted,

Being most forgiven:

A plea there will appear for me;

For of the many,

Whom sovereign Mercy,

With arm almighty,

May raise that state to see,

No one more undeserving

Of joy so great can be.

One song shall echo through the throng:

“To Him who loved us:

To Him who washed us:

To Him who saved us,

From deep and miry clay!”

The thrilling anthem doubling,

Unending, night and day.