|Text:||The Promis'd Land|
1 Far from these narrow Scenes of Night,
Unbounded Glories rise,
And Realms of infinite delight,
Unknown to Mortal Eyes.
2 There Pain and Sickness never come,
And Grief no more complains;
Health Triumphs in Immortal Bloom,
And endless Pleasure reigns.
3 No Cloud those blissful Regions know,
For ever bright and fair!
For Sin, the source of mortal Woe,
Can never enter there.
4 There no alternate Night is known,
Nor Sun's faint sickly Ray;
But Glory from the sacred Throne
Spreads everlasting Day.
5 O may the heav'nly Prospect fire
Our Hearts with ardent Love,
Till Wings of Faith, and strong Desire
Bear ev'ry Thought above.
6 Prepare us, Lord, by Grace Divine
For thy bright Courts on High;
Then bid our Spirits rise and join
The Chorus of the Sky.
|First Line:||Far from these narrow Scenes of Night|
|Title:||The Promis'd Land|