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.

Chorus:
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

Daylilies and Away with our sorrow and fear and My mortal eyes have never seen

  Away with our sorrow and fear,
  We shall soon recover our home;
The city of saints shall appear,
  The day of eternity come.
From earth we shall quickly remove,
  And mount to our native abode,
The house of our Father above,
  The palace of angels and God.

  By faith we already behold
  That lovely Jerusalem here:
Her walls are of jasper and gold,
  As crystal her buildings are clear;
Immovably founded in grace,
  She stands as she ever hath stood,
And brightly her Builder displays,
  And flames with the glory of God.

  No need of the sun in that day
  Which never is followed by night
Where Jesus’s beauties display
  A pure and a permanent light;
The Lamb is their light and their sun,
  And lo! by reflection they shine;
With Jesus ineffably one,
  And bright in effulgence divine.
 
      Charles Wesley

My mortal eyes have never seen
The land of cloudless skies,
Where life’s fair tree, in fadeless green,
God’s healing balm supplies.

By faith, with visions reaching far
Beyond this earthly gloom,
Discerns the land where angels are,
Where flow’rs immortal bloom.

As earthly fruits with sweetness fill
The pleasant air of even,
So life’s fair fruits their sweets distil
Upon the air of heav’n.

None sick that rest beneath the shade
Of Life’s wide-spreading tree;
The roseate cheeks of health ne’er fade:
They bloom eternally.

Sweet balm exhaled from fruits and leaves
Fills heav’n with grateful song;
No breaking heart in loneness grieves
Among the sainted throng.

Chorus:
O wondrous life! eternal rest,
No weariness and pain!
The loss of earth will bring me home
To heaven’s eternal gain.

Rev. Frank Pollock

Vases and Ten thousand times ten thousand and I am longing for home

  Ten thousand times ten thousand,
  In sparkling raiment bright,
The armies of the ransomed saints
  Throng up the steeps of light:
‘Tis finished, all is finished,
  Their fight with death and sin:
Fling open wide the golden gates,
  And let the victors in.

  What rush of hallelujahs
  Fills all the earth and sky!
What ringing of a thousand harps
  Bespeaks the triumph nigh!
O day, for which creation
  And all its tribes were made!
O joy, for all its former woes
  A thousand fold repaid!

  O then what raptured greetings
  On Canaan’s happy shore,
What knitting severed friendships up,
  Where partings are no more!
Then eyes with joy shall sparkle,
  That brimmed with tears of late,
Orphans no longer fatherless,
  Nor widows desolate.

     Henry Alford

I am longing for home
In that “Land of the blest,”
I am weary of toil,
And up there I shall rest,
And I think, O how oft,
When I’m worried with care,
Oh, how blessed ‘twill be,
When at last I am there.

I am longing for home
Where there’ll be no more pain,
I shall meet with no loss,
For there all will be gain;
Tho’ I know not just what,
The great future will be,
Yet I know it will bring
Naught but blessing to me.

I am longing for home,
Soon my journey’ll be done,
And I feel that my life
In that land is begun;
Soon the twilight of earth
Will give way to the dawn,
In the beauteous light,
Of that glorious dawn.

Chorus:
Longing for home, longing for home,
Longing for home in the land of the blest,
Longing for home, glory and home,
Home of the Saviour, of peace and of rest.

Violet E. King

Assorted Flowers and Eternal Source of every joy and We are marching onward to the heav’nly land

Eternal Source of every joy,
Well may thy praise our lips employ,
While in thy temple we appear,
Whose goodness crowns the circling year.

The flowery spring, at thy command,
Embalms the air and paints the land;
The summer rays with vigor shine,
To rise the corn and cheer the vine.

Thy hand in autumn richly pours
Through all our coasts redundant stores;
And winters, softened by thy care,
No more a face of horror wear.

Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days,
Demand successive songs of praise;
Still be the cheerful homage paid,
With opening light and evening shade.

Here in thy house shall incense rise,
And circling Sabbaths bless our eyes,
Till to those lofty heights we soar,
Where days and years revolve no more.

     Philip Doddridge
We are marching onward to the heav’nly land,
To meet each other in the morning;
We are pressing forward to the golden strand,
Where joy will crown us in the morning.

We are trav’ling onward from a world of care,
To meet each other in the morning;
Oh, the time is coming, we shall soon be there,
And joy will crown us in the morning.

We are trav’ling onward, and the way grows bright,
We’ll meet each other in the morning,
Where our friends are waiting at the gate of life,
And joy will crown us in the morning.

Where the hills are blooming on the other shore,
We’ll meet each other in the morning!
Where the heart’s deep longing will be felt no more,
And joy will crown us in the morning.

In the boundless rapture of a Savior’s love
We’ll meet each other in the morning;
Then we’ll sing his glory in the realms above,
And joy will crown us in the morning.

Chorus:
In the morning, in the morning,
We will gather with the faithful in the morning;
Where the night of sorrow shall be rolled away,
And joy will crown us in the morning.

H. E. Blair

Lilacs and Praise to God, immortal praise and There’s a home far away in the land of the blest

Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days!
Bounteous Source of every joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ.

For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield;
For the fruits in full supply,
Ripened ‘neath the summer sky;

All that spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich, o’erflowing stores;

These to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Should thine altered hand restrain
The early and the latter rain;
Blast each opening bud of joy,
And the rising year destroy;

Yet to thee my soul should raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing’s flown,
Love thee for thyself alone.

     Mrs. Anna L. Barbauld, alt.



ALSO A DIFFERENT VERSION

Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous source of ev’ry joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ.

Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;
Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse.

All that spring with beauteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich o’erflowing stores,-

These to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And when every blessing’s flown,
Love thee for thyself alone.

     Anna Laetitia Barbauld



There’s a home far away in the land of the blest,
That is free from temptation and sin,
And I want to go there to be ever at rest,
With the ransomed all safe gathered in.

Yes, that beautiful home I shall see by and by,
Where no sorrow can ever oppress,
There no tears will be shed, there no words come goodbye,
But with Jesus I’ll rest, sweetly rest.

Oh, how sweet it will be when my Saviour I see,
As He sits on His beautiful throne,
All arrayed in His splendor, what glory there’ll be
In that home where no parting will come.

Chorus:
To be there, to be there,
With my Saviour His glory to share,
In that home, beautiful home,
Oh, how sweet it will be to be there.

R. A. Glenn

Memories and The leaves, around me falling and Light after darkness

  The leaves, around me falling,
  Are preaching decay,
The hollow winds are calling,
  “Come, pilgrim, come away!”
The day, in night, declining,
  Says I must, too, decline;
The year, its life resigning,-
  Its lot foreshadows mine.

  The light my path surrounding,
  The loves, to which I cling,
The hopes within me bounding,
  The joys that round me wing,-
All melt, like stars of even,
  Before the morning’s ray,
Pass upward unto heaven,
  And chide at my delay.

  The friends, gone there before me,
  Are calling from on high;
And joyous angels o’er me
  Tempt sweetly to the sky:
“Why wait,” they say, “and wither
  ‘Mid scenes of death and sin?
O rise to glory, hither,
  And find true life begin.”

  I hear the invitation,
  And fain would rise and come,-
A sinner, to salvation;
  An exile, to his home:
But, while I here must linger,
  Thus, thus let all I see
Point on, with faithful finger,
  To heaven, O Lord, and thee.
 
     Henry F. Lyte
   


Light after darkness,
Gain after loss,
Strength after weakness,
Crown after cross,
Sweet after bitter,
Hope after fears,
Home after wand’ring,
Praise after tears.

Sheaves after sowing,
Sun after rain,
Sight after myst’ry,
Peace after pain,
Joy after sorrow,
Calm after blast,
Rest after weariness,
Sweet rest at last.

Near after distant,
Gleam after gloom,
Love after loneliness,
Life after tomb;
After long agony
Rapture and bliss;
Right was the pathway
Leading to this.

Miss F. R. Havergal

Peonies, Book and Some sweet morn a day will open and There is joy among the angels

Some sweet morn a day will open,
Nevermore to close in night;
We shall hail the early token
Of its everlasting light.
On that bright and blissful morrow,
Pilgrims rest, their journey o’er;
Hunger, thirst, and death, and sorrow,
We shall know and fear no more.

Some sweet morn the saints now sleeping,
In the cold and silent tomb,
Shall awake with joyful greeting,
Mantled with immortal bloom;
Then we’ll meet the friends long parted,
Once on earth a happy band;
Meet and dwell with them forever,
Over in the Morning Land.

Some sweet morn the bridal city-
We shall see with wond’ring eyes,
Coming down in all her beauty,
Crowned with glory from the skies;
Then we’ll hail the King eternal,
With His saints, a mighty throng,
And, caught up with them forever,
We shall sing the glad new song.

     Rev. E. P. Marvin
There is joy among the angels,
In the blissful courts above,
When they see a sinner turning
To the Lord of life and love;
As he brings each weary burden,
Ev’ry sorrow, ev’ry care,
And uplifts the heart to heaven,
In an earnest, heartfelt pray’r.

There is joy among the angels,
When they see the faithful, who,
To their ev’ry sense of duty,
Ev’ry where are firm and true,
They who bring each earthly longing
In submission to God’s will,
And with firm and true endeavor,
Strive His precepts to fulfill.

There’ll be joy among the angels,
In that home of true delight,
When the day of life is ended,
And the shadows of the night;
There’ll be joy among the angels,
When the Savior, who is King,
Shall to that bright home eternal,
All His true and faithful bring.

There’ll be joy among the angels,
On that happy, golden shore,
When we meet our loved and cherished,
There to part, no, nevermore;
There’ll be joy among the angels,
And how happy all will be,
When we meet our blessed Saviour
In the day of Jubilee.

Violet E. King