The Bright Forever

Breaking through the clouds that gather,
O'er the Christian's natal skies,
Distant beams, like floods of glory,
Fill the soul with glad surprise;
And we almost hear the echo
Of the pure and holy throng,
In the bright, the bright forever,
In the summer land of song.

Yet a little while we linger,
Ere we reach our journey's end;
Yet a little while of labor,
Ere the evening shades descend;
Then we'll lay us down to slumber,
But the night will soon be o'er;
In the bright, the bright forever,
We shall wake, to weep no more.

O the bliss of life eternal!
O the long unbroken rest!
In the golden fields of pleasure,
In the region of the blessed;
But, to see our dear Redeemer,
And before His throne to fall,
There to bear His gracious welcome,
Will be sweeter far than all.

—Fanny Crosby





The Cross

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.

I saw One hanging on a tree,
In agonies and blood;
He fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.

Sure never till my latest breath,
Shall I forget that look!
It seemed to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke.

A second look He gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou mayest live."

Thus while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too!

—John Newton



The Fear of the Lord

My fear of Thee, O Lord, exults
Like life within my veins,
A fear which tightly claims to be
One of love's sacred pains.

There is no joy the soul can meet
Upon life's various road
Like the sweet fear that sits and shrinks
Under the eye of God.

Oh, Thou art greatly to be feared,
Thou art so prompt to bless!
The dread to miss such love as Thine
Makes fear but love's excess.

But fear is love, and love is fear,
And in and out they move;
But fear is an intenser joy
Than mere unfrightened love.

They love Thee little, if at all,
Who do not fear Thee much;
If love is Thine attraction, Lord!
Fear is Thy very touch.

—F. W. Faber



Heaven at Last

Angel voices sweetly singing,
Echoes through the blue dome ringing,
News of wondrous gladness bringing...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Now beneath us all the grieving,
All the wounded spirit's heaving,
All the woe of hopes deceiving...
Ah 'tis heaven at last!

Sin for ever left behind us,
Earthly visions cease to blind us,
Fleshly fetters cease to bind us...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

On the jasper threshold standing,
Like a pilgrim safely landing
See, the strange bright scene expanding...
Ah 'tis heaven at last!

What a city! what a glory!
Far beyond the brightest story
Of the ages old and hoary...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Softest voices silver pealing,
Freshest fragrances spirit-healing,
Happy hymns around us stealing...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Gone the vanity and folly,
Gone the dark and melancholy,
Come the joyous and the holy...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Not a broken blossom yonder,
Not a link can snap asunder,
Stay'd the tempest, sheathed the thunder...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Not a tear-drop ever falleth,
Not a pleasure ever palleth,
Song to song for ever calleth...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Christ Himself the living splendour,
Christ the sunlight mild and tender;
Praises to the Lamb we render...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Now at length the veil is rended,
Now the pilgrimage is ended,
And the saints their thrones ascended...
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Broken death's dread bands that bound us,
Life and victory around us,
Christ the King Himself hath crowned us...
Ah,'tis heaven at last!

—Horatius Bonar





How Long?

My God, it is not fretfulness
That makes me say "How long?"
It is not heaviness of heart
That hinders me in song,
'Tis not despair of truth and right,
Nor coward dread of wrong.

But how can I, with such a hope
Of glory and of home;
With such a joy before my eyes,
Not wish the time were come
Of years the jubilee, of days
The Sabbath and the sum?

These years, what ages they have been!
This life, how long it seems!
And how can I in evil days,
'Mid unknown hills and streams
But sigh for those of home and heart
And visit them in dreams?

Yet peace, my heart and hush my tongue;
Be calm, my troubled breast;
Each restless hour is hastening on
The everlasting rest.
Thou knowest that the time thy God
Appoints for thee is best.

Let faith, not fear nor fretfulness,
Awake the cry, "How long?"
Let now faintheartedness of soul
Damp thy aspiring song,
Right comes, truth dawns, the night departs
Of error and of wrong.

—Horatius Bonar




In His Hands

'Twixt gleams of joy and clouds of doubt
Our feelings come and go;
Our best estate is tossed about
In ceaseless ebb and flow.
No mood of feeling, form of thought

Is constant for a day;
But thou, 0 Lord, thou changest not:
The same thou art alway.

I grasp thy strength, make it mine own,
My heart with peace is blest;
I lose my hold, and then comes down
Darkness, and cold unrest.
Let me no more my comfort draw
From my frail hold of thee,
In this alone rejoice with awe—-
Thy mighty grasp of me.

Out of that weak, unquiet drift
That comes but to depart,
To that pure heaven my spirit lift
Where thou unchanging art.
Lay hold of me with thy strong grasp,
Let thy almighty arm
In its embrace my weakness clasp,
And I shall fear no harm.

Thy purpose of eternal good
Let me but surely know;
On this I'll lean—let changing mood
And feeling come or go—
Glad when thy sunshine fills my soul,
Not lorn when clouds o'ercast,
Since thou within thy sure control
Of love dost hold me fast .

—John Campbell Shairp


God is the only goal worthy of man's efforts: the fitting end of human existence is a loving union iwth God. ST. Augstustine of Hippo