A prospect of heaven.

THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain.

There everlasting spring abides, And never-with'ring flowers; Death like a narrow sea divides This heavenly land from ours.

Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, Stand dressed in living green: So to the Jews old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between.

But tim'rous mortals start and shrink, To cross this narrow sea, And linger shiv'ring on the brink, And fear to launch away.

Oh, could we make our doubts remove Those gloomy doubts that rise, To see the Canaan that we love, With unbeclouded eyes.

Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er, Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, Should fright us from the shore.