2 O cease, my wandering soul, On restless wing to roam; All the wide world, to either pole, Has not for thee a home.
3 Behold the ark of God, Behold the open door; Hasten to gain that dear abode, And rove, my soul, no more.
4 There safe thou shalt abide, There sweet shall be thy rest, And every longing satisfied, With full salvation blest.
5 And when the waves of ire, Again the earth shall fill, The ark shall ride the sea of fire; Then rest on Zion's hill.
457 S. M. The Lord loveth the gates of Zion. Psalm 87:2.
How honored is the place, Where we adoring stand! Zion, the glory of the earth, And beauty of the land.
2 Bulwarks of grace defend The city where we dwell; While walls of strong salvation made, Defy th' assaults of hell.
3 Lift up th' eternal gates, The doors wide open fling; Enter, ye nations, that obey The statutes of our King.
4 Here taste unmingled joys, And live in perfect peace; You that have known Jehovah's name, And ventured on his grace.
5 Trust in the Lord, ye saints; And banish all your fears, Strength in the Lord Jehovah dwells, Eternal as his years.
458 S. M. The joy of the whole earth. Psalm 48:2.
Far as thy name is known The world declares thy praise; The saints, O Lord, before thy throne Their songs of honor raise.
2 With joy, thy people stand On Zion's chosen hill, Proclaim the wonders of thy hand, And counsels of thy will.
3 Let strangers walk around The city where we dwell, Compass and view thy holy ground, And mark the building well.
4 How comely and how wise! How glorious to behold! Beyond the pomp that charms the eyes, And rites adorned with gold.
5 The God we worship now Will guide us till we die; Will be our God while here below, And ours above the sky.
Far down the ages now, Much of her journey done, The pilgrim church pursues her way, Until her crown be won.
2 The story of the past Comes up before her view: How well it seems to suit her still-- Old, and yet ever new!
3 It is the oft-told tale Of sin and weariness-- Of grace and love yet flowing down To pardon and to bless.
4 No wider is the gate, No broader is the way, No smoother is the ancient path, That leads to life and day.
5 No sweeter is the cup, Nor less our lot of ill: 'Twas tribulation ages since, 'Tis tribulation still.