Heaven.

HIGH in yonder realms of light, Dwell the raptured saints above, Far beyond our feeble sight, Happy in Imanuel's love. Pilgrims in this vale of tears, Once they knew, like us below, Gloomy doubts, distressing fears, Tort'ring pain and heavy woe.

Oft the big unbidden tear, Stealing down the furrowed cheek, Told, in eloquence sincere, Tales of woe they could not speak; But these days of weeping o'er, Past this scene of toil and pain, They shall feel distress no more, Never—never weep again!

'Mid the chorus of the skies, 'Mid the angelic lyres above, Hark—their songs melodious rise, Songs of praise to Jesus' love! Happy spirits! ye are fled, Where no grief can entrance find, Lulled to rest the aching head, Soothed the anguish of the mind!

All is tranquil and serene, Calm and undisturbed repose; There no cloud can intervene, There no angry tempest blows! Every tear is wiped away, Sighs no more shall heave the breast, Night is lost in endless day, Sorrow in eternal rest!