cr

Beyond this land of woe,
Where trials never come,
Nor tears of sorrow flow;
Where faith is lost in sight,
And patient hope is crowned,
And everlasting light
Its glory throws around.
mp 2 There is a land of peace;

f 30 joy all joys beyond,

To see the Lamb who died, dim And tell each sacred wound In hands and feet and side;

cr

To give to Him the praise
Of every triumph won,
And sing through endless days
The great things He hath done.
mf 4 Look up, ye saints of God,
Nor fear to tread below
The path your Saviour trod
Of daily toil and woe;
Wait but a little while

書畫

cr

Good angels know it well; Glad songs that never cease Within its portals swell; mf Around its glorious throne Ten thousand saints adore Christ, with the Father one

cr

In uncomplaining love,
His own most gracious smile
Shall welcome you above. Amen.

H. W. BAKER.

mf

And Spirit, evermore.

These are they which came out of great tribulation.-Rev. vii. 14.

mf 575 GIVE me the wings of faith

mf 4 They marked the footsteps that He trod,
His zeal inspired their breast:
And, following their Incarnate God,
Possess the promised rest.

f 5 Our glorious Leader claims our praise
For His own pattern given,
While the long cloud of witnesses
Shows the same path to heaven.
Amen.

Beulah. 64.64.6664.

mf 577 HALLELUJAH! song of glad- p3 Hallelujah! strains of gladness

2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, Invades thy bounds; no mortal woes f 4 Break from His throne, illustrious

Holley. L.M.

mp 581 HE

The dead that die in the Lord.-Rev. xiv. 13.

EAR what the voice from
heaven proclaims,

For all the pious dead;
Sweet is the savour of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.

cr2 They die in Jesus and are blest;
How kind their slumbers are!

From sufferings and from sins released,
And freed from every snare.

3 Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;
The labours of their mortal life
End in a large reward. Amen.

Bergen (St. Bernard). c.m.

I. WATTS.

A-men.

Jesus wept.-John xi. 35.

mp 582 WHY do we mourn depart- cr4 The graves of all His saints He blest,

ing friends,

Or shake at death's alarms? 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to His arms.

2 Are we not tending upwards too,
As fast as time can move?

Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our Love.

3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb ?
There the Redeemer's body lay,
And left a long perfume.

And softened every bed;

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?

mf 5 Thence He arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord, our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising day.

f 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies. Amen.

I. WATTS.