These are the crowns that we shall wear
When all Thy saints are crowned;
These are the palms that we shall bear
On yonder holy ground.
Far off as yet
reserved in Heaven
Above that veiling sky
They sparkle
like the star of even
To hope’s far piercing eye.
These are the robes
unsoiled and white
Which we shall then put on
When
foremost ’mong the sons of light
We sit on yonder throne.
That city with the jeweled crest
Like some new-lighted sun;
A blaze of burning amethyst—
Ten thousand orbs in one.
That is the city of the saints
Where we so soon shall stand
When we shall strike these desert tents
And quit this desert sand.
These are the everlasting hills
With summits bathed in day;
The slopes down which the living rills
Soft lapsing
take their way.
Fair vision! how thy distant gleam
Brightens time’s saddest hue;
Far fairer than the fairest dream
And yet so strangely true!
Fair vision! how thou liftest up
The drooping brow and eye;
With the calm joy of thy sure hope
Fixing our souls on high.
Thy light makes e’en the darkest page
In memory’s scroll grow fair;
Blanching the lines which tears and age
Had only deepened there.
With thee in view
the rugged slope
Becomes a level way
Smoothed by the magic of thy hope
And gladdened by thy ray.
how poor appear
The world’s most winning smiles;
Vain is the tempter’s subtlest snare
And vain hell’s varied wiles.
Time’s glory fades; its beauty now
Has ceased to lure or blind;
Each gay enhancement here below
Has lost its power to bind.
Then welcome toil
and care and pain!
And welcome sorrow
too!
All toil is rest
all grief is gain
With such a prize in view.
Come crown and throne
Come robe and palm!
Burst forth
glad stream of peace!
Come
holy city of the Lamb!
Rise
Sun of righteousness!
When shall the clouds that veil thy rays
For ever be withdrawn?
Why dost thou tarry
day of days?
When shall thy gladness dawn?
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