| The Celestial Country
The world is very evil,
The times are waxing late;
Be sober and keep vigil,
The Judge is at the gate
The Judge that comes in mercy,
The Judge that comes with might,
To terminate the evil,
To diadem the right.
When the just and gentle Monarch
Shall summon from the tomb,
Let man, the guilty, tremble,
For Man, the God, shall doom!
Arise, arise, good Christian,
Let right to wrong succeed;
Let penitential sorrow
To heavenly gladness lead
To the light that hath no evening,
That knows nor moon nor sun,
The light so new and golden,
The light that is but one.
And when the Sole-Begotten
Shall render up once more
The kingdom to the Father,
Whose own it was before,
Then glory yet unheard of
Shall shed abroad its ray,
Resolving all enigmas,
An endless Sabbath-day.
Then, then from his oppressors
The Hebrew shall go free,
And celebrate in triumph
The year of Jubilee;
And the sunlit land that recks not
Of tempest nor of fight,
Shall fold within its bosom
Each happy Israelite
The Home of fadeless splendor,
Of flowers that fear no thorn,
Where they shall dwell as children,
Who here as exiles mourn.
Midst power that knows no limit,
And wisdom free from bound,
The Beatific Vision
Shall glad the saints around
The peace of all the faithful,
The calm of all the blest,
Inviolate, unvaried,
Divinest, sweetest, best.
Yes, peace! For war is needless
Yes, calm! For storm is past
And goal from finished labor,
And anchorage at last.
That peace but who may claim it?
The guileless in their way,
Who keep the ranks of battle,
Who mean the thing they say
The peace that is for heaven,
And shall be for the earth;
The palace that re-echoes
With festal song and mirth;
The garden, breathing spices,
The paradise on high,
Grace beautified to glory,
Unceasing minstrelsy.
There nothing can be feeble,
There none can ever mourn,
There nothing is divided,
There nothing can be torn.
Tis fury, ill, and scandal,
Tis peaceless peace below;
Peace, endless, strifeless ageless,
The halls of Syon know.
O happy, holy portion,
Refection for the blest,
True vision of true beauty,
Sweet cure of all distrest!
Strive, man, to win that glory;
Toil, man to gain that light;
Send hope before to grasp it,
Till hope be lost in sight;
Till Jesus gives the portion
Those blessed souls to fill
The insatiate, yet satisfied,
The full, yet craving still.
That fullness and that craving
Alike are free from pain,
Where thou, midst heavenly citizens,
A home like theirs shalt gain.
Here is the warlike trumpet;
There, life set free from sin,
When to the last great supper
The faithful shall come in,
When the heavenly net is laden
With fishes many and great
(So glorious in its fulness,
Yet so inviolate);
And perfect from unperfected,
And falln from those that stand,
And the sheep-flock from the goat-herd
Shall part on either hand.
And these shall pass to torment,
And those shall triumph then
The new peculiar nation,
Blest number of blest men,
Jerusalem demands them;
They paid the price on earth,
And now shall reap the harvest
In blissfulness and mirth
The glorious holy people,
Who evermore relied
Upon their Chief and Father,
The King, the Crucified
The sacred ransomed number
Now bright with endless sheen,
Who made the Cross their watchword
Of Jesus Nazarene,
Who (fed with heavenly nectar
Where soul-like odors play)
Draw our the endless leisure
Of that long vernal day.
And through the sacred lilies
And flowers on every side,
The happy dear-bought people
God wandering far and wide;
Their breasts are filled with gladness,
Their mouths are tuned to praise,
What time, now safe for ever,
On former sins they gaze:
The fouler was the error,
The sadder was the fall,
The ampler are the praises
Of Him who pardoned all.
Their one and only anthem,
The fulness of His love,
Who gives instead of torment,
Eternal joys above
Instead of torment, glory;
Instead of death, that life
Wherewith your happy Country,
True Israelites, is rife.
Brief life is here our portion,
Brief sorrow, short-livd care;
That life that knows no ending
The tearless life is there.
O happy retribution!
Short toil, eternal rest;
For mortals and for sinners
A mansion with the blest!
That we should look, poor wandrers,
To have our home on high!
That worms should seek for dwelling,
Beyond the starry sky!
To all one happy guerdon
Of one celestial grace;
For all, for all, who mourn their fall,
Is one eternal place.
- Bernard of Cluny
__________________
Daniel
Baptist
Oregon
Last edited by dbh; 08-09-2009 at 02:09 AM.
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