I await a peaceful Sabbath In the regions of the blest Where the wicked cease from troubling And the wearied are at rest. In God’s House are many mansions Open wide for every one Who confides in the compassions Of His Own Eternal Son. Neither heat nor cold can ever Injure that unnumbered throng Whose employment and enjoyment Centre in a ceaseless song, As they celebrate the conquest Of the Cross on Calvary, And the Grace and Love and Comfort Of The Blessed Trinity. HYMN IV. “_The haven of their desire_” Ps. cviii. 30. “Mae’r dydd yn d’od ’i ’r hâd brenhinol” Dawning is that happy morning When, beyond the bonds of pain, The redeemed shall rise rejoicing And with Christ together reign. Faith shall vanish into vision Verified, and hope shall be Satisfied in the fruition Of unfailing charity. Forward! Homeward! way-worn pilgrim! That predicted morn is near, When The once afflicted Saviour Crowned with glory shall appear. Round Him, as a golden girdle Shining, is His Faithfulness Offering the vilest sinner Pardon, Peace and Holiness. HYMN V. “_The Blood of Jesus His Son cleanseth from all sin_.” 1 S. JOHN i. 7. “Pechadur aflan yw fy enw,” WHAT a marvel that Almighty God should have so lovingly Recognised the chief of sinners And devised relief for me! Though so very sadly broken, All the law was satisfied When in pain and shame and sorrow Jesus bowed His Head and died. In His Hand the golden sceptre Is extended to imply That the vilest wretch may venture Confidently to draw nigh. Therefore, crying “I have sinned!” I approach the mercy-seat Of My pardoning Redeemer And adore before His Feet. Not the waters of the ocean, Could they be collected in One vast reservoir, could ever Blot, or wash away one sin: But the precious Blood of Jesus Shed for us on Calvary And His Righteousness release us From its guilt and penalty. Forth from underneath the threshold Of the temple of My God Flows a Fountain of Forgiveness Opened by Immanuel’s Blood: Pure and bright and clear as crystal, Coming down like dew below, It can make the Ethiopian White, like freshly fallen snow. HYMN VI. “_But God is faithful_” 1 COR. x, 18. “Cofia, Arglwydd, dy ddyweddi,” LORD, remember, we implore Thee, And defend from every foe Thy poor spouse that bends before Thee Palpitating as a doe: Be Thou unto her a Pillar To direct her in the night,— To illuminate and fill her With the lustre of Thy Light.