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O by what glimmering light we view
That unknown world we're hastening to!
God hath locked up the mystic page,
And curtained darkness round the stage.
We talk of heaven, we talk of hell,
But what they mean, no tongue can tell!
Heaven is the realm where angels are,
And hell the chaos of despair.
But what these awful words imply
None of us know before we die!
Whether we will or not, we must
Take the succeeding world on trust.
Swift flies the soul—perhaps 'tis gone
Ten thousand leagues beyond the sun:
Or twice ten thousand more thrice told
Ere the forsaken clay is cold.
But ah! Do notices they give,
Nor tell us where or how they live;
Though conscious while with us below
How much themselves desired to know.
As if bound up by solemn fate,
To keep this secret of their state,
To tell their joys or pains to none,
That man may live by faith alone.
Well!—let our sovereign if he please,
Lock up his marvellous decrees;
Why should we wish him to reveal
What he thinks proper to conceal?
It is enough that we believe
Heaven's brighter far than we conceive:
And O may God our souls prepare
To meet and bless and praise him there.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1815 | # 239 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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BROOKFIELD (GIDEON)
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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1855
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 302 | Ab | | # 281 | Ab | | # 522 | D | | # 590 | D | | # 142 | Eb | | # 465 | Eb | | # 302 | Eb | | # 854 | Eb | | # 110 | G | | # 142 | G | | # 346 | G | | # 1152 | G | | # 224 | G |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
