Hear how His voice sounds far and wide;
"Ye weary souls no more delay;
Loiter not faithless by the way;
Here in my peace and rest abide!"
Yonder in joy the sheaves we bring,
Whose seed was sown on earth in tears;
There in our Father's house we sing
The song too sweet for mortal ears;
Sorrow and sighing all are past,
And pain and death are fled at last ;
There with the Lamb of God we dwell;
He leads us to the crystal river;
He wipes away all tears forever;
What there is ours no tongue can tell.
Hunger nor thirst can pain us there;
The time of recompense is come,
Nor cold, nor scorching heat we bear,
Safe sheltered in our Saviour's home;
The Lamb is in the midst, and those
Who followed Him through shame and woes
Are crowned with honor, joy and peace;
The dry bones gather life again;
One Sabbath over all shall reign,
Wherein all toil and labor cease.
There is untroubled calm and light,
No gnawing care shall mar our rest;
Ye weary, heed this word aright;
Come, lean upon your Saviour's breast!
Fain would I linger here no more,
Fain to yon happier world upsoar,
Let doubt, then, and danger, my progress oppose;
They only make heaven more sweet at the close.
Come joy or come sorrow, whate'er may befall,
An hour with my God will make up for them all.
A scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand,
I'll march on in haste in an enemy's land;
The road may be rough, but it cannot be long,
And I'll smooth it with hope and cheer it with song!
YES, THERE REMAINETH A REST.
From the German. Translated by Miss WINKWORTH.
ES, there remaineth yet a rest;
Arise, sad heart, that darkly pines,
By heavy care and pain oppressed,
On whom no sun of gladness shines;
Look to the Lamb!—in yon bright fields
Thou'lt know the joy His presence yields.
Cast off thy load and thither haste;
Soon shalt thou fight and bleed no more,
Soon, soon thy weary course be o'er,
And deep the rest thou then shalt taste.
The rest appointed thee of God;
The rest that naught shall break or move, That ere this earth by man was trod
Was set apart for thee by love. Thy Saviour gave His life to win This rest for thee; oh, enter in!
Hear how His voice sounds far and wide;
"Ye weary souls no more delay;
Loiter not faithless by the way;
Here in my peace and rest abide!"
Yonder in joy the sheaves we bring,
Whose seed was sown on earth in tears;
There in our Father's house we sing
The song too sweet for mortal ears;
Sorrow and sighing all are past,
And pain and death are fled at last;
There with the Lamb of God we dwell;
He leads us to the crystal river;
He wipes away all tears forever;
What there is ours no tongue can tell.
Hunger nor thirst can pain us there;
The time of recompense is come,
Nor cold, nor scorching heat we bear,
Safe sheltered in our Saviour's home;
The Lamb is in the midst, and those
Who followed Him through shame and woes
Are crowned with honor, joy and peace;
The dry bones gather life again;
One Sabbath over all shall reign,
Wherein all toil and labor cease.
There is untroubled calm and light,
No gnawing care shall mar our rest;
Ye weary, heed this word aright;
Come, lean upon your Saviour's breast!
Fain would I linger here no more,
Fain to yon happier world upsoar,
And join that bright expectant band!
Oh, raise my soul, the joyful song
That rings through yon triumphant throng,
Thy perfect rest is nigh at hand!
AND IS THERE, LORD, A REST?
ND is there, Lord, a rest,
For weary souls designed,
Where not a care shall stir the breast
Or sorrow entrance find?
Is there a blissful home,
Where kindred minds shall meet, And live, and love, nor ever roam From that serene retreat?
Are there bright, happy fields,
Where nought that blooms shall die; Where each new scene fresh pleasure yields, And healthful breezes sigh?
Are there celestial streams,
Where living waters glide,
With murmurs sweet as angel dreams,
And flowery banks beside?
Forever blesséd they
Whose joyful feet shall stand
While endless ages waste away
Amid that glorious band!
My soul would thither tend
While toilsome years are given;
Then let me, gracious God, ascend
To sweet repose in Heaven!
O RESTFUL HOME WE TURN TO THEE.
"Neither shall there be any more pain."
HOW sweetly rest at home those who have acted
In life's e'er painful drama darkling parts;
There nevermore are aching brows contracted,
There nevermore bleed bruised and broken hearts.
Not there, as here, sad eyes are watching, weeping, Beloved ones toss through nights of wearying pain; Not then, as now, is death its cold hands steeping Deep in the blood and tears of all the slain.
There the sharp cut of harsh neglect ne'er bringeth Tears to the eyes, whence tears are wiped away; There hate or anger ne'er its wild dart flingeth Upon the unshielded: there is peace alway.
In heaven is perfect health-no pain, no weakness,
No brooding sorrow, no oppressive fears;
The pure, the blest, made perfect in their meekness,
Pass tranquilly adown the eternal years.
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