2 My Father’s house on high,
  Home of my soul, how near,
At times, to faith’s aspiring eye
  Thy golden gates appear. 
Ah! then my spirit faints
  To reach the land I love;
The bright inheritance of saints—­
  Jerusalem above;
Home above, home above,
  Jerusalem above.

3 Yet doubts still intervene,
  And all my comfort flies;
Like Noah’s dove, I flit between
  Rough seas and stormy skies. 
Anon the clouds depart,
  The wind and waters cease,
While sweetly o’er my gladdened heart
  Expands the bow of peace;
Bow of peace, bow of peace,
  Expands the bow of peace.

     James Montgomery, 1835.

528 On Jordan’s Stormy Banks.  C.M.

The Pleasing Prospect. (1117)

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
  And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
  Where my possessions lie.

Cho.—­We will rest in the fair and happy land,
        Just across on the evergreen shore,
      Sing the song of Moses and the Lamb, by and by,
        And dwell with Jesus evermore.

2 O’er all those wide-extended plains
  Shines one eternal day;
There God the Son forever reigns
  And scatters night away.

3 When shall I reach that happy place,
  And be forever blest? 
When shall I see my Father’s face,
  And in his bosom rest?

4 Filled with delight, my raptured soul
  Would here no longer stay;
Tho’ Jordan’s waves around me roll,
  Fearless I’d launch away.

     Samuel Stennett, 1787.

529 Shall We Gather. 8s & 7s.

The River of Life.

Shall we gather at the river
  Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
  Flowing by the throne of God.

Cho.—­Yes, we’ll gather at the river,
      The beautiful, the beautiful river,—­
      Gather with the saints at the river
      That flows by the throne of God.

2 On the margin of the river
  Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
  All the happy, golden day.

3 Ere we reach the shining river
  Lay we ev’ry burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
  And provide a robe and crown.

4 At the smiling of the river
  Mirror of the Savior’s face,
Saints whom death will never sever
  Lift their songs of saving grace.

5 Soon we’ll reach the silver river,
  Soon our pilgrimage will cease;
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
  With the melody of peace.

     Robert Lowry.

530 The Future. 8s & 7s.  D.

The Future in God’s Hands.

Oh, I often sit and ponder,
  When the sun is sinking low,
Where shall yonder future find me? 
  Does but God in heaven know? 
Shall I be among the living? 
  Shall I be among the free? 
Wheresoe’er my path be leading,
  Savior, keep my heart with thee.