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J. B. Dykes, 1861
When a - long life's thorn-y road, Faints the soul be - neath the load,
By its cares and sins op-prest, Finds on earth no peace or rest;
2 Thou, our Savior, from the throne 3 Mighty to redeem and save, Listenest to Thy people's moan;
Thou hast overcome the grave; Thou, the living Head, dost share Thou the bars of death hast riven, Every pang Thy members bear; Opened wide the bars of heaven; Full of tenderness Thou art,
Soon in glory Thou shalt come, Thou wilt heal the broken heart; Taking Thy poor pilgrims home; Full of power, Thine arm shall quell Jesus, then we all shall be, All the rage and might of hell. Ever, ever, Lord, with Thee.
Jaines G. Deck. 1838
4 Who would share Abraham's bless
Must Abraham's path pursue. (ing, A stranger and a pilgrim,
Like him, must journey through. The foes must be encountered,
The dangers must be passed; Only a faithful soldier,
Receives the crown at last. 5 So I must hasten forwards,
Thank God, the end will come!
Is not my destined home.
The land of light and love.
6 There still my thoughts are dwelling'
'Tis there I long to be; Come, Lord, and call Thy servant
To blessedness with Thee! Come, bid my toils be ended,
Let all my wanderings cease; Call from the wayside lodging
To the sweet home of peace. 7 There I shall dwell for ever,
No more a stranger guest,
In everlasting rest:
The pilgrim conflicts o'er,
P. Gerhard, 1866
Make us patient and enduring:
Show us that bright shore
Where we weep no more! 4 Jesus, still lead on,
Till our rest be won; Heavenly Leader, still direct us, Still support, console, protect us,
Till we safely stand
N. L. von Zinzendorf, 1721
506 9. 8. 6L.
C. E. F. Weyse, 1826
2 I know of a peaceful eventide;
And when I am faint and weary,
dreary; Then often I yearn to lay me down,
And sink into blissful slumber. 3 I know of a morning bright and fair,
When tidings of joy shall wake us, When songs from on high shall fill
the air, And God to His glory take us, When Jesus shall bid us rise from
sleepHow joyous that hour of awaking! 4 O that is a morning dear to me, And oft, o'er the mountains stream
ing, In spirit its heavenly light I
As golden the peaks are beaming; Then sing I for joy like birds at dawn
That carol in lofty lindens. 5 God's Son to our graves then wends
His voice hear all tribes and na
tions; The portals are rent that guard our
clay, And moved are the sea's founda
tions. He calls out aloud: “Ye dead, come
forth!' In glory we rise to meet Him. 6 Now opens the Father's house above,
The names of the blest are given: Lord, gather us there; let none we
love Be missed in the joys of heaven. Vouchsafe Thou us all a place with
Thee; We ask through our dear Redeem7 O Jesus, draw near my dying bed,
And take me into Thy keeping, And say when my spirit hence is fied: "This child is not dead, but sleep
ing." And leave me not, Savior, till I rise, To praise Thee in life eternal.
7, 8, 7, 8, 7, 7.
Lüneburgisches Gesangbuch, 1686
Heavenward still our path-way tends, Here on earth we are but stran-gers;
Heavenward still my heart ascends, Sun and moon and stars out-soar
ing; Their faint rays in vain would try Once with light of heaven to vie.
2 Heavenward still, my soul, ascend!
Thou art one of heaven's creations; Earth can ne'er give aim or end
Fit to fill thy aspirations: Turns a heaven-illumined mind
Evermore its source to find. 3 Heavenward still! God's volume blest,
Thus, throughout its sacred pages, Calls on me, and speaks its rest,
Rest with Him through endless ages; While my heart that call attends,
Still to heaven my path ascends. 4 Heavenward still my thoughts arise,
When His festal board invites me; Then my spirit upward flies,
Foretaste then of heaven delights
6 Heavenward still, when life shall
close, Death to my true home shall guide
me; There, triumphant o'er my woes,
Lasting bliss shall God provide me; Christ Himself the way has led, Joyful in His steps I tread.
When on earth this food hath ceased, Comes the Lamb's own marriage
feast. 5 Heavenward still my spirit wends,
That fair land by faith exploring;
7 Still then heavenward! heavenward
still! That shall be my watchword ever! Joy's of heaven my heart shall fill,
Chasing joys that filled it never; Heavenward still my joys shall run, Till the gate of heaven is won.
B. Schmolck, 1731