HEAVEN.
“There shall be no more death—neither sorrow—nor crying—neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things have passed away.”Rev.xxi. 4.
“There shall be no more death—neither sorrow—nor crying—neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things have passed away.”
Rev.xxi. 4.
There shall be no more death! I love to traceThe records of my last abiding place—A mansion bought for me by dying love;And—blissful thought!—I may not thence remove.No waning strength, nor painful heaving breath,Shall give me warning of thy coming, Death!I shall not see thee fix thy baleful eyeOn those I love, and feel that they must die;No arrow from thy ever outstretch’d bowAgain shall lay my dearest treasures low;No thoughts of absent ones shall there intrude,Nor hearts be broken by thine entrance rude;No dark abyss of grief shall open there,To drown my soul in billows of despair;I shall not feel that I am leftalone;And only hear each well remember’d toneSound in mine ears, like some low sighing moan!But Heaven’s undying choral harmonyShall ever my immortal music be,And sweet accordance thrill my list’ning ear,While tuneful angel songs entranc’d I hear.Yes! there’s a land where death shall be no more,Where sad heartbreaking partings all are o’er!I know the land—my darling ones are there;Come, Death—to that bright world my spirit bear!There shall be no more sorrow! I shall feelNo chilling sadness o’er my spirit steal;And there shall be no aching heart in Heaven;No mem’ry’s tear; no trespass unforgiven;No restless cares fresh gath’ring every hour;No clouds o’er life’s dark labyrinth to lower;No longing thirst for life’s immortal stream;No disappointment; no deceitful dream;No heart of adamant to vex me there;No secret sins to fill me with despair;No viper gliding round my place of rest,To fix its deadly fangs within my breast;No midnight watchings, paling friendship’s cheek;No harrowing fears I do not dare to speak;No last adieu to chill my sinking heart,And whisper me the hour has come—to part!No sad preparings for the silent grave;No dark funereal group where willows wave;No deep distress to bow my fainting head;Nosorrow’s anniversaryto dread!Come—blissful hour! when all have pass’d away—Those “former things” that darken’d life’s sad day,And safely housed shall all my loved ones be,In ever brightening immortality!Yes! there’s a land where sorrows shall be o’er,And I shall see the gath’ring cloud no more;I know the land—I languish to be there:Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!There shall be no more crying! Joyful day!When God’s own hand all tears shall wipe away,And while eternity’s long ages roll,Sweet peace shall settle on my ransom’d soul.I shall not be a wand’ring alien there,Estrang’d from God—as I am often here;Loud hallelujahs, ever on my tongue,Shall to my golden harp be sweetly sung;No plaintive notes shall give their mournful sounds,Save when I sing my Savior’s dying wounds;Then to the Lamb a louder song shall rise,And echo joyful round th’ eternal skies;And souls redeem’d shall praise a Savior slain,While bright archangels catch the pealing strain!Then, rising high, the song shall swell again,And infant voices lisp a sweet—Amen!No tears can fall where all the blest employIs rapturous praise; and ever growing joySits radiant on each angelic face,While glory brightens all the blissful place!Yes! there’s a land where tears shall fall no more,Nor dim the eyes that often wept before;I know the land—my sainted ones are there;Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!There shall be no more pain! no languishing!No mortal sickness shall its anguish bring;There shall be no last agony to dread;No fever’d brain; no restless, aching head;No bounding pulse; no deathlike shiv’ring chill;No throbbing heart for death’s cold touch to still;No curd’ling of the heart’s warm vital flood;No heavy dulness o’er the eyes to brood;No pallid faces stealing round my bed,Fearing to rouse me by the softest tread;No closing out the blessed light of day;No need to force my weeping friends away;No painful gaspings for the thick’ning breath;No sorrow—no sad tears—no pain—no death!O, these shall not be there! for life’s sad dayAnd gloomy night, shall all have “pass’d away!”There in my own, my dear, eternal home,No baleful sickly blights may ever come;My soul shall flourish in immortal bloom,While lies my body mould’ring in the tomb;And this poor clay shall yet in beauty rise,When the last trump shall sound its glad surprise.Yes! there’s a land where pain shall be no more,A land of smiles and joy, blest Canaan’s shore!My Savior and his ransom’d ones are there;Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
There shall be no more death! I love to traceThe records of my last abiding place—A mansion bought for me by dying love;And—blissful thought!—I may not thence remove.No waning strength, nor painful heaving breath,Shall give me warning of thy coming, Death!I shall not see thee fix thy baleful eyeOn those I love, and feel that they must die;No arrow from thy ever outstretch’d bowAgain shall lay my dearest treasures low;No thoughts of absent ones shall there intrude,Nor hearts be broken by thine entrance rude;No dark abyss of grief shall open there,To drown my soul in billows of despair;I shall not feel that I am leftalone;And only hear each well remember’d toneSound in mine ears, like some low sighing moan!But Heaven’s undying choral harmonyShall ever my immortal music be,And sweet accordance thrill my list’ning ear,While tuneful angel songs entranc’d I hear.Yes! there’s a land where death shall be no more,Where sad heartbreaking partings all are o’er!I know the land—my darling ones are there;Come, Death—to that bright world my spirit bear!There shall be no more sorrow! I shall feelNo chilling sadness o’er my spirit steal;And there shall be no aching heart in Heaven;No mem’ry’s tear; no trespass unforgiven;No restless cares fresh gath’ring every hour;No clouds o’er life’s dark labyrinth to lower;No longing thirst for life’s immortal stream;No disappointment; no deceitful dream;No heart of adamant to vex me there;No secret sins to fill me with despair;No viper gliding round my place of rest,To fix its deadly fangs within my breast;No midnight watchings, paling friendship’s cheek;No harrowing fears I do not dare to speak;No last adieu to chill my sinking heart,And whisper me the hour has come—to part!No sad preparings for the silent grave;No dark funereal group where willows wave;No deep distress to bow my fainting head;Nosorrow’s anniversaryto dread!Come—blissful hour! when all have pass’d away—Those “former things” that darken’d life’s sad day,And safely housed shall all my loved ones be,In ever brightening immortality!Yes! there’s a land where sorrows shall be o’er,And I shall see the gath’ring cloud no more;I know the land—I languish to be there:Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!There shall be no more crying! Joyful day!When God’s own hand all tears shall wipe away,And while eternity’s long ages roll,Sweet peace shall settle on my ransom’d soul.I shall not be a wand’ring alien there,Estrang’d from God—as I am often here;Loud hallelujahs, ever on my tongue,Shall to my golden harp be sweetly sung;No plaintive notes shall give their mournful sounds,Save when I sing my Savior’s dying wounds;Then to the Lamb a louder song shall rise,And echo joyful round th’ eternal skies;And souls redeem’d shall praise a Savior slain,While bright archangels catch the pealing strain!Then, rising high, the song shall swell again,And infant voices lisp a sweet—Amen!No tears can fall where all the blest employIs rapturous praise; and ever growing joySits radiant on each angelic face,While glory brightens all the blissful place!Yes! there’s a land where tears shall fall no more,Nor dim the eyes that often wept before;I know the land—my sainted ones are there;Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!There shall be no more pain! no languishing!No mortal sickness shall its anguish bring;There shall be no last agony to dread;No fever’d brain; no restless, aching head;No bounding pulse; no deathlike shiv’ring chill;No throbbing heart for death’s cold touch to still;No curd’ling of the heart’s warm vital flood;No heavy dulness o’er the eyes to brood;No pallid faces stealing round my bed,Fearing to rouse me by the softest tread;No closing out the blessed light of day;No need to force my weeping friends away;No painful gaspings for the thick’ning breath;No sorrow—no sad tears—no pain—no death!O, these shall not be there! for life’s sad dayAnd gloomy night, shall all have “pass’d away!”There in my own, my dear, eternal home,No baleful sickly blights may ever come;My soul shall flourish in immortal bloom,While lies my body mould’ring in the tomb;And this poor clay shall yet in beauty rise,When the last trump shall sound its glad surprise.Yes! there’s a land where pain shall be no more,A land of smiles and joy, blest Canaan’s shore!My Savior and his ransom’d ones are there;Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
There shall be no more death! I love to traceThe records of my last abiding place—A mansion bought for me by dying love;And—blissful thought!—I may not thence remove.No waning strength, nor painful heaving breath,Shall give me warning of thy coming, Death!I shall not see thee fix thy baleful eyeOn those I love, and feel that they must die;No arrow from thy ever outstretch’d bowAgain shall lay my dearest treasures low;No thoughts of absent ones shall there intrude,Nor hearts be broken by thine entrance rude;No dark abyss of grief shall open there,To drown my soul in billows of despair;I shall not feel that I am leftalone;And only hear each well remember’d toneSound in mine ears, like some low sighing moan!But Heaven’s undying choral harmonyShall ever my immortal music be,And sweet accordance thrill my list’ning ear,While tuneful angel songs entranc’d I hear.
There shall be no more death! I love to trace
The records of my last abiding place—
A mansion bought for me by dying love;
And—blissful thought!—I may not thence remove.
No waning strength, nor painful heaving breath,
Shall give me warning of thy coming, Death!
I shall not see thee fix thy baleful eye
On those I love, and feel that they must die;
No arrow from thy ever outstretch’d bow
Again shall lay my dearest treasures low;
No thoughts of absent ones shall there intrude,
Nor hearts be broken by thine entrance rude;
No dark abyss of grief shall open there,
To drown my soul in billows of despair;
I shall not feel that I am leftalone;
And only hear each well remember’d tone
Sound in mine ears, like some low sighing moan!
But Heaven’s undying choral harmony
Shall ever my immortal music be,
And sweet accordance thrill my list’ning ear,
While tuneful angel songs entranc’d I hear.
Yes! there’s a land where death shall be no more,Where sad heartbreaking partings all are o’er!I know the land—my darling ones are there;Come, Death—to that bright world my spirit bear!
Yes! there’s a land where death shall be no more,
Where sad heartbreaking partings all are o’er!
I know the land—my darling ones are there;
Come, Death—to that bright world my spirit bear!
There shall be no more sorrow! I shall feelNo chilling sadness o’er my spirit steal;And there shall be no aching heart in Heaven;No mem’ry’s tear; no trespass unforgiven;No restless cares fresh gath’ring every hour;No clouds o’er life’s dark labyrinth to lower;No longing thirst for life’s immortal stream;No disappointment; no deceitful dream;No heart of adamant to vex me there;No secret sins to fill me with despair;No viper gliding round my place of rest,To fix its deadly fangs within my breast;No midnight watchings, paling friendship’s cheek;No harrowing fears I do not dare to speak;No last adieu to chill my sinking heart,And whisper me the hour has come—to part!No sad preparings for the silent grave;No dark funereal group where willows wave;No deep distress to bow my fainting head;Nosorrow’s anniversaryto dread!Come—blissful hour! when all have pass’d away—Those “former things” that darken’d life’s sad day,And safely housed shall all my loved ones be,In ever brightening immortality!
There shall be no more sorrow! I shall feel
No chilling sadness o’er my spirit steal;
And there shall be no aching heart in Heaven;
No mem’ry’s tear; no trespass unforgiven;
No restless cares fresh gath’ring every hour;
No clouds o’er life’s dark labyrinth to lower;
No longing thirst for life’s immortal stream;
No disappointment; no deceitful dream;
No heart of adamant to vex me there;
No secret sins to fill me with despair;
No viper gliding round my place of rest,
To fix its deadly fangs within my breast;
No midnight watchings, paling friendship’s cheek;
No harrowing fears I do not dare to speak;
No last adieu to chill my sinking heart,
And whisper me the hour has come—to part!
No sad preparings for the silent grave;
No dark funereal group where willows wave;
No deep distress to bow my fainting head;
Nosorrow’s anniversaryto dread!
Come—blissful hour! when all have pass’d away—
Those “former things” that darken’d life’s sad day,
And safely housed shall all my loved ones be,
In ever brightening immortality!
Yes! there’s a land where sorrows shall be o’er,And I shall see the gath’ring cloud no more;I know the land—I languish to be there:Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
Yes! there’s a land where sorrows shall be o’er,
And I shall see the gath’ring cloud no more;
I know the land—I languish to be there:
Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
There shall be no more crying! Joyful day!When God’s own hand all tears shall wipe away,And while eternity’s long ages roll,Sweet peace shall settle on my ransom’d soul.I shall not be a wand’ring alien there,Estrang’d from God—as I am often here;Loud hallelujahs, ever on my tongue,Shall to my golden harp be sweetly sung;No plaintive notes shall give their mournful sounds,Save when I sing my Savior’s dying wounds;Then to the Lamb a louder song shall rise,And echo joyful round th’ eternal skies;And souls redeem’d shall praise a Savior slain,While bright archangels catch the pealing strain!Then, rising high, the song shall swell again,And infant voices lisp a sweet—Amen!No tears can fall where all the blest employIs rapturous praise; and ever growing joySits radiant on each angelic face,While glory brightens all the blissful place!
There shall be no more crying! Joyful day!
When God’s own hand all tears shall wipe away,
And while eternity’s long ages roll,
Sweet peace shall settle on my ransom’d soul.
I shall not be a wand’ring alien there,
Estrang’d from God—as I am often here;
Loud hallelujahs, ever on my tongue,
Shall to my golden harp be sweetly sung;
No plaintive notes shall give their mournful sounds,
Save when I sing my Savior’s dying wounds;
Then to the Lamb a louder song shall rise,
And echo joyful round th’ eternal skies;
And souls redeem’d shall praise a Savior slain,
While bright archangels catch the pealing strain!
Then, rising high, the song shall swell again,
And infant voices lisp a sweet—Amen!
No tears can fall where all the blest employ
Is rapturous praise; and ever growing joy
Sits radiant on each angelic face,
While glory brightens all the blissful place!
Yes! there’s a land where tears shall fall no more,Nor dim the eyes that often wept before;I know the land—my sainted ones are there;Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
Yes! there’s a land where tears shall fall no more,
Nor dim the eyes that often wept before;
I know the land—my sainted ones are there;
Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
There shall be no more pain! no languishing!No mortal sickness shall its anguish bring;There shall be no last agony to dread;No fever’d brain; no restless, aching head;No bounding pulse; no deathlike shiv’ring chill;No throbbing heart for death’s cold touch to still;No curd’ling of the heart’s warm vital flood;No heavy dulness o’er the eyes to brood;No pallid faces stealing round my bed,Fearing to rouse me by the softest tread;No closing out the blessed light of day;No need to force my weeping friends away;No painful gaspings for the thick’ning breath;No sorrow—no sad tears—no pain—no death!O, these shall not be there! for life’s sad dayAnd gloomy night, shall all have “pass’d away!”There in my own, my dear, eternal home,No baleful sickly blights may ever come;My soul shall flourish in immortal bloom,While lies my body mould’ring in the tomb;And this poor clay shall yet in beauty rise,When the last trump shall sound its glad surprise.
There shall be no more pain! no languishing!
No mortal sickness shall its anguish bring;
There shall be no last agony to dread;
No fever’d brain; no restless, aching head;
No bounding pulse; no deathlike shiv’ring chill;
No throbbing heart for death’s cold touch to still;
No curd’ling of the heart’s warm vital flood;
No heavy dulness o’er the eyes to brood;
No pallid faces stealing round my bed,
Fearing to rouse me by the softest tread;
No closing out the blessed light of day;
No need to force my weeping friends away;
No painful gaspings for the thick’ning breath;
No sorrow—no sad tears—no pain—no death!
O, these shall not be there! for life’s sad day
And gloomy night, shall all have “pass’d away!”
There in my own, my dear, eternal home,
No baleful sickly blights may ever come;
My soul shall flourish in immortal bloom,
While lies my body mould’ring in the tomb;
And this poor clay shall yet in beauty rise,
When the last trump shall sound its glad surprise.
Yes! there’s a land where pain shall be no more,A land of smiles and joy, blest Canaan’s shore!My Savior and his ransom’d ones are there;Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
Yes! there’s a land where pain shall be no more,
A land of smiles and joy, blest Canaan’s shore!
My Savior and his ransom’d ones are there;
Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
Charleston,August 2, 1840.