XXXVIII. SONG OF HOPE.

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How highly blest were those who saw

On earth their gracious Lord,

Who dared approach His sacred form,

Who listened to His word,

Whose faith the Son of God approved,—

Whom the Redeemer saw, and loved!

Disciples hearkening to the voice

Which reached the inmost soul,

That voice which could awake the dead,

The winds and waves control;

Who heard—oh! more than happiness—

Those accents pardon, praise, or bless!

Who gazed on that soul-searching eye,

Which every thought foresaw,

From whose calm power the hypocrite

Shrank with instinctive awe,—

Yet saw on them its glances fixed

With tender mercy—love unmixed!

And may not such ecstatic bliss

Be granted e’en to me?

Though death destroy this mortal flesh,

These eyes my God shall see,

When coming in the clouds of light

His glory bursts upon my sight!

To hear the Saviour’s voice of love

Pronounce the gracious word,

“Come, blessed of My Father, come,

Enter the kingdom of your Lord;”

To meet the smile in eyes divine—

Oh! can such rapture e’er be mine!

It may, it may, it is prepared

For all who love Him here,

Who humbly search His written word,

And serve with faith and fear;

They all shall see Messiah’s face

Radiant with glory, love, and grace!

The hand that guides their course on earth

Shall wipe all tears away,

The light which cheers their thorny path

Shall flash to perfect day;

Where Jesus reigns His saints shall be,

With Him through all eternity!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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