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s There is a land of pure de-light, Where saints im-mor - tal reign; { 7 In fi - nite day ex - cludes the night And pleas-ures ban - ish pain. 5

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Death, like a nar - row sea, di- vides This heav'nly land from ours. A- men.

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2 Nearer my Father's house,

There rolls the deep and unknown stream Where many mansions be,

To be crossed ere we reach the light. Nearer to-day the great white throne, 5 Jesus, perfect my trust, Nearer the crystal sea.

Strengthen my power of faith: 3 Nearer the bound of life,

Nor let me stand at last alone
Where burdens are laid down,

Upon the shore of death;
Nearer to leave the heavy cross,

6 Feel Thee near when my feet Nearer to gain the crown.

Are slipping o'er the brink; 4 But lying dark between,

For it may be I'm nearer home,
Winding down through the night, Nearer now than I think. Amen.

Phabe Cary, alt.

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Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the crys - tal

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2 Nearer the bound of life, Where we lay our | bur-dens | down;

Nearer leaving the cross, Nearer | gaining the crown;
But lying darkly between, Winding | down' through the night,
Is the deep and / un-known stream || To be crossed ere we | reach the | light.

3 Jesus, perfect my trust, Strengthen the hand of my | faith,

Let me feel Thee near when I stand On the edge of the shore of death
Feel Thee near when my feet Are slipping | over 'the brink,
For it may be I'm near-er | home, || Nearer | now than I think. A- | men.

PHEBE Cary, alt.

489 O QUANTA QUALIA 1os.

Ancient Plain-song

14 4

(d=100) Oh, what the joy and the glo - ry must be, .. Those endless Sabbaths the

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God

shall be all,

and in

all

ey - er blest.

A-men.

rest;

2 What are the Monarch, His court,and His 5 There dawns no Sabbath, no Sabbath is throne?

o'er, What are the peace and the joy that they Those Sabbath-keepers have one everown?

more; Oh, that the blest ones, who in it have One and unending is that triumph-song share,

Which to the angels and us shall belong. All that they feel could as fully declare!

6 Now, in the meanwhile, with hearts 3 Truly Jerusalem name we that shore,

raised on high, Vision of peace, that brings joy ever We for that country must yearn and more;

must sigh; Wish and fulfilment can severed be ne'er, Seeking Jerusalem, dear native land, Nor the thing prayed for come short of Through our long exile on Babylon's the prayer.

strand. 4 There, where no troubles distraction can 7 Low before Him with our praises we fall, bring

Of Whom, and in Whom, and through We the sweet anthems of Zion shall

Whom are all; sing;

Of Whom, the Father; and in Whom, the While for Thy grace, Lord, their voices Son; of praise

Through Whom, the Spirit, with Them Thy blessèd people eternally raise.

ever One. Amen.

PETER ABELARD. Tr. JOHN M. NEALE

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