THEY tell me of the glory
of yonder home of light,
The many, many mansions
of pure and true delight ;
The walls of purest jasper,
the gates of jewels rare ;
The street of gold transparent
the saints will walk when there ;
The song which ransomed sinners
will sing in sweetest tone,
As one and all they gather
around th' eternal throne ;
The meeting there of Loved ones
who've long since gone before,
Embraced and gladly welcomed
on yonder peaceful shore.
They speak to me of heaven
where God's redeemed shall dwell ;
The Father's house where pleasures
are more than tongue can tell:
They speak to me of freedom
from sickness, pain and tears,
From sorrow, care, temptation,
from death and all its fears;
Of rest supreme, eternal,
ne'er soiled by sin's rude hand,
Mid scenes of brightest glory
within Emmanuel's land—
But all these put together,
with countless joys beside,
Could never meet the longings
of one for whom Christ died.
The Babe of Bethlehem's manger,
the One of humble birth,
Despised on earth, a Stranger—
yea, none could tell His worth ;
The mighty God, Creator,
of earth and skies above,
Who in each word and action
made known the Father's love ;
The One with love so boundless
for sinners such as we,
Laid down His life a ransom
on Calvary's cruel tree !
'Tis He, the Lord of glory,
my heart so longs to see ;
'Tis where He is—His presence,
makes heaven heaven to me.
Lord hasten that blest moment,
when with Thyself on high
My heart with joyous rapture
will swell the jubilee !
Thyself my home eternal—
my head upon Thy breast—
Full satisfying portion,
my life, my joy, my rest,