1 Blest door of bliss, to weary saints,
Thou art, grim Death, become;
Secured as in a cabinet,
Their dust is in the tomb.
2 By death they enter to those joys,
Prepared for them above;
There they are ever swallowed up
In endless life and love.
3 Lo! there they see as they are seen,
With clear unclouded views:
And here they hear of nothing else
But joyful glorious news.
4 Anthem of joy and praise are there,
With hallelujahs sung:
Who would be fond of this vain world,
This dross, this dirt, this dung?
5 The saints forever do behold
Their dearest Jesus' face;
There always they admiring are
Eternal boundless grace.
6 They're in the house not made with hands,
In heaven eternally
They dwell, and with the rays of Christ
They shine most gloriously.
7 They're freed from labor, sorrow, sin,
From cumbrance, peril, pain:
Then we shall find whate'er we did
For Christ, was not in vain.
8 Now Heaven's work is here begun,
The work of singing praise,
The work and will of God in Christ,
Which there will last always.
Divine Hymns, or Spiritual Songs: for the use of religious assemblies and private Christians 1800