SHALL I EVER DWELL THERE?
By F. J. Bideler
WHEN the glorified saints, a holy band,
On the sea of glass triumphant stand,
Shall I with that holy and happy throng,
Be permitted to join in the victor's song?
Shall I that beautiful city see?
Those pearly gates, will they open for me?
Shall I walk in those golden streets so fair,
And gaze on the glories glowing there? Ah! the only way to that city of God,
Is a rough and narrow and thorny road;
It leads through a gate that is strait and low,
No worldly business can through it go.
And none but the pure will be taken there;
For no sin can ever its beauty mar.
But I am unholy, my sins I view,
By nature vile, what shall I do? A fountain I see; it is opened wide;
It flows from my Saviour's wounded side;
I'll wash in that fountain till free from sin;
And I'll shrink not from trials, from toil, and pain,
Though the way is rough, and my weary feet
Are pierced with thorns, and strong foes I meet;
Yet firmly I'll walk in the narrow way,
Till I reach the bright realms of eternal day. A little while longer I'll patiently bear
Earth's sorrows and trials, they soon will be o'er.
A little while longer—and then, oh! then,
A golden harp and a diadem;
A beautiful home in those mansions fair—
With the pure and good, I may ever dwell there.
There Jesus shall reign, and his presence will be,
The sunlight and joy of eternity.