2. Therefore, when my God doth choose it, Willingly I’ll yield my life, Nor will grieve that I should lose it, For with sorrows it was rife; In my dear Redeemer’s merit Peace hath found my troubled spirit, And in death my comfort is Jesus’ death—sweet comfort this! 3. For my sake He went before me, And His death is now my gain; Peace and hope He conquered for me; So without regret or pain, Yea, with joy I’ll quit earth’s sadness For the beauteous heaven of gladness, Where I shall eternally See the holy Trinity. 4. There is joy beyond our telling, Where so many saints have gone; Thousands, thousands, there are dwelling, Worshiping before the throne; There the seraphim are shining, Evermore in chorus joining: “Holy, holy, holy, Lord! Triune God, for aye adored!” 5. There great men, of sacred story, Prophets, patriarchs, are met; There apostles, too, in glory Fill twelve thrones by Jesus set; All the saints that have ascended Age on age, through time extended, There in blissful concert sing Hallelujahs to their King. 6. O Jerusalem, how glorious Dost thou shine, thou city fair! Lo! I hear the tones victorious Ever sweetly sounding there! O the bliss that there surprises! Lo! the sun of morn now rises, And the breaking day I see That shall never end for me! 7. Yea, I see what here was told me, See that wondrous glory shine; Feel the spotless robes enfold me, Know a golden crown is mine. Thus before the throne so glorious Now I stand, a soul victorious, Gazing on that joy for aye That shall never pass away. J. G. Albinus, 1652; C. Winkworth, 1863, a. 531 S. M. One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o’er and o’er,— Nearer my home to-day am I Than e’er I’ve been before; 2. Nearer my Father’s house, Where many mansions be; Nearer to-day the great white throne; Nearer the crystal sea; 3. Nearer the bound of life Where burdens are laid down; Nearer to leave the heavy cross; Nearer to gain the crown. 4. But, lying dark between, Winding down through the night, There rolls the silent, unknown stream That leads at last to light. 5. E’en now, perchance, my feet Are slipping on the brink, And I to-day am nearer home, Nearer than now I think. 6. Father, perfect my trust; Strengthen my spirit’s faith; Nor let me stand at last alone Upon the shore of death. Phoebe Cary, 1852. 532 7, 6, 8 l