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Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Mums and Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings and Amid the toil and pain of life

  Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
  Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things
  Toward heaven, thy native place:
Sun, and moon, and stars decay;
  Time shall soon this earth remove;
Rise, my soul, and haste away
  To seats prepared above.

  Rivers to the oceans run,
  Nor stay in all their course;
Fire ascending seeks the sun;
  Both speed them to their source:
So a soul that’s born of God,
  Pants to view his glorious face;
Upward tends to his abode,
  To rest in his embrace.

  Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn,
  Press onward to the prize;
Soon our Saviour will return
  Triumphant in the skies:
There we’ll join the heavenly train,
  Welcomed to partake the bliss;
Fly from sorrow, care, and pain,
  To realms of endless peace.

     Robert Seagrave
Amid the toil and pain of life,
Amid its conflicts and its strife,
A precious thought to me is giv’n,
The thought of my sweet home in heav’n.

When lov’d ones fade and pass away,
And, left alone, on earth I stay;
To cheer my heart this hope is giv’n,
We’ll meet in yon sweet home in heav’n.

We’ll see our Saviour as He is,
Enjoy His love and taste His bliss,
And endless life will there be giv’n
In yonder peaceful home in heav’n.

No more we’ll reach the parting hand,
In yonder bright and happy land;
No more will sad farewells be giv’n
In yonder blessed home in heav’n.


O, home of peace, blest home of love,
Sweet home of endless life above;
When ties that bind to earth are riven,
I’ll seek thy courts, sweet home in heav’n.

E. A. Hoffman

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