Song of the New Creation

It draw­eth near!

That day—of days the day—

For which the Bride­groom waits

For which the vir­gins pray;

For which earth sighs

and hastes

To greet it on its way;

Asking

as on it comes

Why this so long de­lay?

It draw­eth near at last!

Who shall its ad­vent stay?

It hastes to rise!

That sun—of suns the sun—

Whose ris­ing is the pledge

Of ev­il all un­done

Of dark­ness at an end

And heav’n­ly day be­gun;

The war of ag­es o’er

And the last bat­tle won.

It hast­eth to arise

Its glo­ri­ous race to run.

It breathes o’er earth!

That balm-ex­hal­ing air

In Heav’n’s own od­ors steeped

To our sick world to bear

The health of that pure realm:

No sick­ness

pain

and where

True life has its abode

And in which all things rare

Flourish

but nev­er fade

Divinely soft and fair.

It swell­eth forth!

That song—of songs the song—

Creation’s me­lo­dy

From harps till now un­strung

The new

sweet

ma­tin hymn

As yet on earth un­sung

Poured in rich burst of praise

From eve­ry heart and tongue;

The an­them of a world

Redeemed from woe and wrong.

Behold

He comes!

And with Him comes the love

Which makes these wastes be­low

Like heav’n of heav’ns ab­ove;

When round His cen­tral throne

Shall all cre­ation move;

No at­om out of place

No will to swerve or rove;

Swayed by the si­lent breath.

Of the eter­nal Dove.

He comes in pow­er!

The King—of kings the King—

All right­eous­ness and peace

In His right hand to bring;

Into the last ab­yss

Each re­bel crown to fling;

Time’s ag­es of mis­rule

To end; that now may spring

His or­der

law and light

Beneath His ho­ly wing.

He comes in pomp!

The ho­ly pomp of Heav’n

When sin is at its height

And earth is all un­shriv’n.

Scorched by no hu­man fire

No cloud-begotten lev­in

His band­ed foes fall back

Before His fu­ry driv’n.

The na­tions of the world

Into His hand are giv’n.

He comes in light!

Girt with His gold­en zone

Arrayed in heav’n­ly white

With light His path­way strewn.

Like a long ab­sent prince

Returning to his throne;

No more dis­owned

un­loved

No more un­praised

un­known;

He comes to share His light

And glo­ry with His own.

He speaks at last

The word—of words the word:

Lo

I make all things new!

And now with sweet ac­cord

The heav’ns and earth ob­ey;

The uni­verse is stirred

When

from the throne of thrones

The po­tent voice is heard

Old things now pass away

And Eden is re­stored.

The foe is bound

With the un­break­ing chain;

The spoil­er now is spoiled

No more o’er earth to reign;

Purged is cre­ation now

From the prim­ev­al stain

Of the old ser­pent’s trail.

Never to rise again

The prince of ev­il falls

Slain with the migh­ty slain.

Death’s reign is done!

The grave gives up its dead;

The bless­èd sleep­ers wake

One with their bless­èd Head.

Life tri­umphs over death

The en­emy has fled;

The ty­rant of the tomb

Is now a cap­tive led

Upon his head at last

His slaugh­ters vis­it­ed.

The curse is gone!

The bless­ing comes in­stead;

And now

where’er we go

On hal­lowed ground we tread.

The ca­no­py of love

Is stretched ab­ove our head;

The soil

no long­er cursed

Is like a gar­den spread;

The wil­der­ness re-blooms

With ver­dure ov­er­laid.

All strife is o’er!

Ended the world’s rude jar;

And uni­vers­al peace

Succeeds the age of war.

Man’s pride

and rage

and hate

Have gone and left no scar;

Of all that laid earth waste

Nothing re­mains to mar

The mel­low calm that rests

On all things near and far.

No sor­row comes!

All tears are wiped away;

No shade of wea­ri­ness

On eye or brow can stay.

Sweet song of each new morn

The same as yes­ter­day.

Faith’s fu­ture wears no frown

And hope knows no de­lay;

No cloud of un­be­lief

Absorbs one heav­en­ly ray.

New heav’n and earth

In ho­ly beau­ty bright

Arise and shine

like morn

When ends the cloud­ed night.

New heav’n

and earth

and sea

Free from all stain and blight

Spread out their spark­ling robes

Their rai­ment clean and white—

O re­gion of the pure

Land of un­known de­light!

Zion awakes

Jerusalem puts on

Her beau­ty and her strength;

True ci­ty of the Sun

Thy light

thy light is come;

Ascend thy shin­ing throne!

Thy war­fare now is o’er

Thy ene­mies o’er­thrown;

Wave

wave thy palm on high

Thy vic­to­ry is won.

City of peace!

In brid­al beau­ty clad

Thy day of mourn­ing done

No more thy voice is sad.

Thy King is in thee now;

He who in an­ger bade

Thy foes ex­ult o’er thee;

He who in ven­geance had

Sent fire in­to thy tow­ers

Has come to make thee glad.

O plea­sant land!

Land of the migh­ty

too.

No cloud re­mains to dim

Thy sky of stain­less blue.

No li­on shall be there

Nor beast of prey pass through;

Thy fields

and vales

and streams

How ex­cel­lent to view!

Upon thy thou­sand hills

Glistens the ho­ly dew.

The storm is spent!

Faint breath­ing in­to balm;

The Mas­ter’s Peace

be still!

Has wrought the bless­èd calm.

And now the breeze of Heav’n

Sighs soft through each fair palm;

The voice of right­eous men

Swells out in each glad psalm

Praise to the Son of God

Praise to the great I AM.

The sword is sheathed!

The spear is flung aside;

The ga­thered hosts dis­band

And scat­ter far and wide.

Man’s blood no long­er stains

The riv­er’s crys­tal tide;

The sky no long­er rings

With shouts of hu­man pride.

’Tis uni­vers­al peace

Each note of war has died.

Jehovah reigns!

And now the na­tions praise;

The Christ of God is King;

In right­eous­ness He sways

O’er all the hap­py world

The scep­ter of His grace;

The king­doms all are His

His strength the earth up­stays;

His glo­ry fills the heav’ns

His word the world ob­eys.

Jerusalem

City of sun and gold

The dwell­ing of the saints

Descendeth

as fore­told

In words of liv­ing fire

By He­brew seers of old;

Of the one flock of God

The ev­er­last­ing fold;

Earth’s tribes walk in its light

And glo­ry ma­ni­fold.

The ci­ty shines

In splen­dor from afar

In bright round fir­ma­ment

Like new­ly bur­nished star.

Eternal love with­in;

No din

nor strife

nor jar:

For all of ev­ery clime

Its pear­ly gates un­bar;

Peace walks its gold­en streets

Fled ev­ery sound of war!

No sun by day!

By night no moon they need;

Jehovah is their light

From mist and dark­ness freed.

The Lamb up­on the throne

Is all the light they need;

He to the wells of life

Daily His own doth lead;

And on His pas­tures green

Sweetly His own doth feed.

Clear flows the stream

From the su­per­nal throne;

Stream of eter­ni­ty

All heav’n­ly streams in one;

Whose wa­ters car­ry life

And fresh­ness all their own

With im­mor­tal­ity

And glad­ness now un­known.

Upon its banks are heard

The songs of joy alone.

Blessèd are they

Who to the great re­past

The sup­per of the Lamb

Are called

that they may taste

The heav’n­ly vi­ands there;

Who at that ta­ble rest

Drinking in all its love

Reclining on the breast

Of Him who is Him­self

The Mas­ter and the feast.

No night is there!

No sha­dow ev­er falls

Upon thy gold­en streets

Or stains thy jas­per walls.

No watch­man on thy tow­ers

The mid­night warn­ing calls;

No plun­d’rer of the dark

The star­tled ear ap­palls.

’Tis end­less fes­tiv­al

Within thy prince­ly halls.

Thy ci­ti­zens

No com­ing sun­set dread;

Above them mild­est light

Of soft­est sky is spread

No more by wast­ing storms

To be re­vis­it­ed.

Nor age nor siege they fear;

All ene­mies have fled.

The glo­ry now re­turns

To rest ab­ove thy head.

The tree of life

Yieldeth its end­less store;

Twelve har­vests year by year.

The palm and sy­ca­more

The ol­ive of the hills

Old Ju­dah’s tree of yore

No beau­ty had like this

Nor such abun­dance bore;

Its ve­ry leaves are life

And health for ev­er­more.

The Cross has won!

The Ga­li­le­an now

Has con­quered in the fight

For us He smote the foe

For us He led the war

And laid the strong one low.

His blood hath washed the earth

And purged all things be­low;

Earth’s glo­ry now is His;

Its crown is on His brow.

The song goes up!

From ev­ery breath­ing thing

Upon the ho­ly soil

From which th’old ser­pent’s sting

Has been for ev­er plucked;

Streams

hills

and for­ests bring

In sweet­ly swell­ing strains

Their hap­py of­fer­ing;

And prais­es ev­ery­where

Ascend to earth’s one King.

Glory to God!

Glory to Christ the Lord;

Glory in earth and Heav’n

Glory with one ac­cord;

To Him who earth up­holds

By His al­migh­ty word;

To Him by whom all things

Have been at last re­stored

His is the name of names

In Heav’n and earth ad­ored.

Thrice-hap­py earth!

Once guil­ty

now for­giv’n;

From which has been ex­pelled

The all-de­fil­ing leav’n.

Oh what a day is thine

The bright­est of the sev’n!

The day of days

ere long

To be in mer­cy giv’n

When Heav’n shall be on earth

And earth shall all be Heav’n.

Thrice-hap­py earth!

All per­fect

beau­te­ous fair;

Which of the orbs above

May once with thee com­pare?

Gem of the uni­verse!

The seat of beau­ty rare;

Dear home of love and truth

Of all things per­fect

where

Reigneth the right­eous King

Creation’s Lord and Heir.

Thrice-hap­py earth!

Henceforth the first and best

Of han­di­works di­vine;

Once ru­ined and un­blest;

Now washed and beau­ti­fied

The place of God’s own rest

Throughout eter­nal age

In splen­dor ma­ni­fest

As the one blood-bought orb

The is­land of the blest.

Great mys­te­ry!

Among the orbs that are

Sparkling ab­ove in light;

Of all

both near and far

The bright­est and the best:

Once seat of woe and jar

The least and lone­li­est;

Now with no sin to mar

It rolls in new-born glow

The one re­deem­èd star.

Thy fel­lows shine

Each in his own clear light;

But not like thine their glow

So ex­qui­site­ly bright;

On which has nev­er shone

A love so in­fi­nite

As that which thou hast found—

The love which wash­es white

Sin’s stain

and in­to day

Turns dark

pro­found­est night.

Upon their soil

No cross has ev­er stood.

They have no Beth­le­hem

And no in­car­nate God.

They have no Gol­go­tha

And no all-purg­ing blood;

No lamb of sac­ri­fice

No cleans­ing lav­er-flood;

No priest­ly word of peace

That makes all ev­il good.

’Tis not their soil

(Though with all beau­ty stored

And spark­ling fair and bright

As all with one ac­cord

They speak their Mak­er’s praise)

Of which th’eter­nal Word

Took part

where blood di­vine

Was spilt

love free­ly poured.

They can­not claim to be

Of kin­dred with their Lord.

They can­not say

’Twas here He lived and died

And here up­on this tree

For us was cru­ci­fied.

This earth of ours alone

Of all the orbs be­side

The mill­ion orbs of space

Can claim to be al­lied

To God­head; and to Heav’n

So firm­ly

sweet­ly tied.

Their his­to­ry

Great though per­chance it be

And full of mi­ra­cle—

The won­drous his­to­ry

Of more stu­pen­dous orbs

Sweeping in ma­jes­ty

Round wid­er

strang­er depths

Of vast in­fi­ni­ty—

Is not like ours

so fraught

With heav’n­ly mys­te­ry.

This earth­ly orb

Is dull

and poor

and small;

Thick clouds en­gir­dle it

Like a fu­ne­re­al pall.

It wheels through nar­row space

An ob­scure si­lent ball;

And to a thou­sand suns

Is debt­or still for all

The dai­ly

night­ly lights

That gent­ly on it fall.

Yet to this globe

All God­head has come down;

Here is the link di­vine

That knits the up­per throne

To crea­ture­hood be­low

Never to be un­done!

This world

long wan­der­ing

Without a star or sun

That seemed for ev­er lost

Is now for ev­er won.

For ev­er won!

Plucked from the pow­er of sin

And made all ho­li­ness.

Now with the sons of men

God’s tents for ev­er pitched!

No sha­dow of a stain;

On all Cre­ation’s round!

The old de­stroy­er slain;

And now at last be­gun

The pure and ho­ly reign.

The reign of right

Supplants the sway of wrong;

The reign of pro­mised peace

To earth has come: the long

Long era of the blest!

With now un­loos­èd tongue

The na­tions ut­ter praise;

Earth’s brok­en harp is strung

Creation now is glad

And sings its an­cient song.

Earth is all new!

A beau­ty now is giv’n

Greater than what it lost;

Its fet­ters all are riv’n;

Creation is set free

And the dark spoil­er driv’n

From his usurp­èd seat;

The foul

cor­rupt­ing leav’n

Of ev­il is purged out

And earth is one with Heav’n.

Most ho­ly place!

O beau­ty ev­er fair;

O fields that nev­er fade

O rich and bal­my air;

O home for ev­er freed

From wea­ri­ness and care;

O halls in which the robes

Of fes­tiv­al they wear!

No dread of com­ing change

Disturbs the glad­ness there.

New heav’ns

new earth!

Knit sweet­ly in­to one

No more to se­pa­rate:

The an­cient curse is gone;

With no sad seed of death

Thy purg­èd soil is sown;

Thy seas no tem­pests know

Thy skies no cloud­ed sun;

God’s pur­pose is ful­filled

The age of ev­il done!

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hymn: Song of the New Creation - Horatius Bonar, 1872 - Scott Werdebaugh, 2017 | HymnC