CLOUDLESS HEAVEN None wanting yonder Horatius Bonar. WE SPEAK OF THE REALMS OF THE BLEST WE speak of the realms of the blest, We speak of its pathways of gold, We speak of its service of love, We speak of its freedom from sin; From trials without and within But what must it be to be there? WE SPEAK OF THE REALMS OF THE BLEST Do Thou, Lord, 'midst pleasure or woe, Then soon shall we joyfully know And feel what it is to be there. Mrs. Elizabeth Mills. ZION IS OUR HOME ZION is our home; Jerusalem the city of our God. O happy home! O happy children here! Here are the harvests reaped once sown in tears; Here is the banquet of the wine of heaven, Crowns, amaranthine crowns of victory, The crystal river of the Spirit's joy, The bridal palace of the Prince of Peace, Edward Henry Bickersteth. A YEAR IN HEAVEN ONE year among the angels, beloved, thou hast been, One year has heaven's white portal shut back the sound of sin; And yet no voice, no whisper, comes floating down from thee, To tell us what glad wonder a year of heaven may be. Our hearts before it listen-the beautiful closed gate: The silence yearns around us—we listen and we wait. It is thy heavenly birthday, on earth thy lilies bloom; In thine immortal garland canst find for these no room? Thou lovedst all things lovely when walking with us here: Now from the heights of heaven seems earth no longer dear? |