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    The Celestial Country finish

    O holy, placid harp-notes
    Of that eternal hymn!
    O sacred, sweet refection,
    And peace of Seraphim!
    O thirst, for ever ardent,
    Yet evermore content!
    O true peculiar vision
    Of God cunctipotent!
    Ye know the many mansions
    For many a glorious name.
    And divers retributions
    That divers merits claim;
    For midst the constellations
    That deck our earthly sky,
    This star than that is brighter –
    And so it is on high.

    Jerusalem the glorious!
    The glory of the Elect!
    O dear and future vision
    That eager hearts expect!
    Even now by faith I see thee,
    Even here thy walls discern;
    To thee my thoughts are kindled,
    And strive, and pant, and yearn.

    Jerusalem the only,
    That look’st from heaven below,
    In thee is all my glory,
    In me is all my woe;
    And though my body may not,
    My spirit seeks thee fain,
    Till flesh and earth return me
    To earth and flesh again.

    O none can tell thy bulwarks,
    How gloriously they rise!
    O none can tell thy capitals
    O beautiful device!
    Thy loveliness oppresses
    All human thought and heart;
    And none, O peace, O Syon
    Can sing thee as thou art!

    New mansion of new people,
    Whom God’s own love and light
    Promote, increase, make holy,
    Identify, unite!
    Thou city of the Angels!
    Thou City of the Lord!
    Whose everlasting music
    Is the glorious decachord!

    And there the band of Prophets
    United praise ascribes,
    And there the twelvefold chorus
    Of Israel’s ransomed tribes,
    The lily-beds of virgins,
    The roses’ martyr-glow,
    The cohort of the Fathers
    Who kept the faith below.
    And there the Sole-begotten
    Is Lord in regal state –
    He, Judah’s mystic Lion,
    He, Lamb Immaculate.
    Of fields that know no sorrow!
    O state that fears no strife!
    O princely bowers! O land of flowers!
    O rhelm and home of Life!

    Jerusalem, exulting
    On that securest shore,
    I hope thee, wish thee, sing thee,
    And love thee evermore!
    I ask not for my merit,
    I seek not to deny
    My merit is destruction,
    A child of wrath am I;
    But yet with faith I venture
    And hope upon my way;
    For those perennial guerdons
    I labor night and day.

    The best and dearest Father,
    Who made me and who saved,
    Bore with me in defilement,
    And from defilement laved,
    When in His strength I struggle,
    For very joy I leap,
    When in my sin I totter,
    I weep, or try to weep:
    But grace, sweet grace celestial,
    Shall all it love display,
    And David’s Royal fountain
    Purge every sin away.

    O mine, my golden Syon!
    O lovelier far than gold,
    With laurel-girt battalions,
    And safe victorious fold!
    O sweet and blessed Country,
    Shall I ever see thy face?
    O sweet and blessed Country,
    Shall I ever win thy grace?
    I have the hope within me
    To comfort and to bless!
    Shall I ever win the prize itself?
    O tell me, tell me, Yes!

    Exult, O dust and ashes!
    The Lord shall be thy part;
    His only, His for ever,
    Thou shalt be, and thou art!
    Exult, O dust and ashes!
    The Lord shall be thy part;
    His only, His for ever,
    Thou shalt be, and thou art!
    Last edited by dbh; 08-09-2009 at 01:03 AM.
    Daniel
    Baptist
    Oregon

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