5 Reach down, reach down thine arms of grace And cause me to ascend, Where congregations ne’er break up, And Sabbaths never end. 6 Jesus, my love, to glory’s gone; Him will I go and see; And all my brethren here below Will soon come after me. 821 C. M. A city which hath foundations. Heb. 11:10. Jerusalem! my glorious home, Name ever dear to me! When shall my labors have an end, In joy, and peace, and thee! 2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls And pearly gates behold? Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, And streets of shining gold? 3 There happier bowers than Eden’s bloom, Nor sin nor sorrow know: Blessed seats! through rude and stormy scenes I onward press to you! 4 Why should I shrink at pain and woe? Or feel, at death, dismay? I’ve Canaan’s goodly land in view, And realms of endless day. 5 Apostles, martyrs, prophets there, Around my Saviour stand; And soon my friends in Christ below Will join the glorious band. 6 Jerusalem! my glorious home! My soul still pants for thee; Then shall my labors have an end, When I thy joys shall see. 822 S. M. A brighter day. Lord, we expect a day Still brighter far than this, When death shall bear our souls away, To realms of light and bliss. 2 There rapturous scenes of joy Shall burst upon our sight; And every pain, and tear, and sigh, Be drowned in endless night. 3 Beneath thy balmy wing, O Sun of Righteousness! Our happy souls shall sit and sing The wonders of thy grace. 4 Nor shall that radiant day, So joyfully begun, In evening shadows die away Beneath the setting sun. 5 How various and how new Are thy compassions, Lord! Eternity thy love shall show, And all thy truth record. 823 7s, 6 lines. The soul panting for God. Psalm 42. As the hart, with eager looks, Panteth for the water-brooks, So my soul, athirst for thee, Pants the living God to see: When, O when, with filial fear, Lord, shall I to thee draw near? 2 Why art thou cast down, my soul? God, thy God, shall make thee whole: Why art thou disquieted? God shall lift thy fallen head, And his countenance benign Be the saving health of thine. 824 7s. They that conquer shall wear the crown.