3 There generous fruits that never fail On trees immortal grow; There rocks and hills, and brooks and vales, With milk and honey flow. 4 All o’er these wide, extended plains, Shines one eternal day; There God, the Son, for ever reigns, And scatters night away. 5 No chilling winds nor poisonous breath Can reach that healthful shore; Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, Are felt and feared no more. 6 When shall I reach that happy place, And be for ever blest! When shall I see my Father’s face, And in his bosom rest! 7 Filled with delight, my raptured soul Would here no longer stay; Though Jordan’s waves around me roll, Fearless I’d launch away. 432 C. M. Hope in trouble. When musing sorrow weeps the past, And mourns the present pain, ’Tis sweet to think of peace at last, And feel that death is gain. 2 ’Tis not that murmuring thoughts arise, And dread a Father’s will; ’Tis not that meek submission flies, And would not suffer still. 3 It is that heaven-born faith surveys The path that leads to light, And longs her eagle plumes to raise, And lose herself in sight. 4 It is that troubled conscience feels The pangs of struggling sin, And sees, though far, the hand that heals, And ends the strife within. 5 O, let me wing my hallowed flight From earth-born woe and care, And soar above these clouds of night, My Saviour’s bliss to share. 433 C. M. Light in darkness. O there’s a better world on high; Hope on, thou pious breast; Faint not, thou traveler; on the sky Thy weary feet shall rest. 2 Anguish may rend each vital part; Poor man, thy strength how frail! Yet heaven’s own strength shall shield thy heart, When flesh and heart shall fail. 3 Through death’s dark vale, of deepest shade, Thy feet must surely go; Yet there, e’en there, walk undismayed; ’Tis thy last scene of woe. 4 Thy God—and with the tenderest hand— Shall guard the traveler through; “Hail!” shalt thou cry: “hail! promised land! And, wilderness, adieu!” 5 O Father, make our souls thy care, And bring us safe to thee; Where’er thou art—we ask not where— But there ’tis heaven to be. 434 C. M. Abiding in hope. Since I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes. 2 Should earth against my soul engage, And fiery darts be hurled, Then I would smile at Satan’s rage, And face a frowning world. 3 Let cares, like a wild deluge, come, And storms of sorrow fall, May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all.