Jerusalem, the glorious! 
  The glory of th’ elect,—­
O dear and future vision
  That eager hearts expect! 
Ev’n now by faith I see thee,
  Ev’n here thy walls discern;
To thee my thoughts are kindled,
  And strive, and pant, and yearn!

2 The cross is all thy splendor,
  The Crucified, thy praise;
His laud and benediction
  Thy ransomed people raise;—­
Jerusalem! exulting
  On that securest shore,
I hope thee, wish thee, sing thee,
  And love thee evermore!

3 O sweet and blessed country! 
  Shall I e’er see thy face? 
O sweet and blessed country! 
  Shall I e’er win thy grace?—­
Exult, O dust and ashes! 
  The Lord shall be thy part;
His only, his forever,
  Thou shalt be, and thou art!

     Bernard of Cluny, 1145. 
     J.M.  Neale, tr. 1757

514 Varina.  C.M.  D.

The Heavenly Canaan. (1116)

There is a land of pure delight,
  Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
  And pleasures banish pain. 
There everlasting spring abides,
  And never-withering flowers;
Death, like a narrow sea, divides,
  This heavenly land from ours.

2 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
  Stand dressed in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
  While Jordan rolled between. 
But timorous mortals start and shrink
  To cross this narrow sea,
And linger, shivering on the brink,
  And fear to launch away.

3 O could we make our doubts remove,
  Those gloomy doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love,
  With unbeclouded eyes—­
Could we but climb where Moses stood,
  And view the landscape o’er,
Not Jordan’s stream, nor death’s cold flood,
  Should fright us from the shore.

     Isaac Watts, 1709.

515 Varina.  C.M.D.

Heavenly Rest in Anticipation (1118)

When I can read my title clear
  To mansions in the skies,
I’ll bid farewell to every fear
  And wipe my weeping eyes. 
Should earth against my soul engage,
  And fiery darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan’s rage. 
  And face a frowning world.

2 Let cares like a wild deluge come
  Let storms of sorrow fall—­
So I but safely reach my home,
  My God, my heaven, my all. 
There I shall bathe my weary soul
  In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
  Across my peaceful breast.

     Isaac Watts, 1707.

516 Varina.  C.M.D.

The Society of Heaven. (1126)

Jerusalem! my glorious home! 
  Name ever dear to me! 
When shall my labors have an end,
  In joy, and peace, and thee? 
When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls
  And pearly gates behold? 
Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,
  And streets of shining gold?