OH! bright and blessed scenes,
Where sin shall never come,
Whose sight my longing spirit weans
From earth, where yet I roam!
And can I call my home
My Father's house on high;
The rest of God my rest, to come,
My place of liberty?
Yes, in that light unstained,
My stainless soul, shall live;
My heart's deep longings more than gained,
When God His rest shall give.
His presence-there my soul,
Its rest, its joy untold,
Shall find, when endless ages roll,
And time shall ne'er grow old.
My God the center is,
His presence fills that land;
And countless myriads own'd as His,
Round Him adoring stand.
My God, whom I have known,
Well known in Jesus' love;
Rests in the blessing of His own,
Before Himself above.
Glory supreme is there,
Glory that shines through all,
More precious still that love to share,
As those that love did call.
Like Jesus in that place
Of light and love supreme,
Once man of sorrows full of grace,
Heaven's blest and endless theme.
Like Him, O grace supreme!
Like Him, before Thy face,
Like Him, to know that glory beam,
Unhindered face to face.
Oh! love supreme and bright,
Good to the fullest heart,
That gives me now as heavenly light
What soon shall be my part.
Be not to me, my God,
As one that turned aside
To tarry for a night, and trod
His onward way. Abide
With me as light divine,
That brings into my breast
Those glad'ning scenes e'en now as mine,-
Soon my eternal rest.
The above lines on "Home " are borrowed, with permission of the Editor, from "A Voice to the Faithful," No. 5. May, 1867.
24, Warwick-lane, E C., London.