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GOD'S BEAUTIFUL CITY

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 24, 1874

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 43, No. 11.

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GOD'S BEAUTIFUL CITY.

By D. T. Taylor

Far, far away, amid realms of light, Hid deep in the azure beyond our sight, Stands a beautiful city so high and bright, Where is known no sorrow, nor death, nor night. Beautiful city!
O blest abode! O home of God! Whose streets by the feet of the sinless are trod. Beautiful city!
They roam through the gardens of endless spring; They crowd all thy portals on rushing wing; While the echoing domes of the palace ring; With the hymns of the angels that shout and sing. Beautiful city!
Hark! hark, again! the angelic strain, As gleams through the crystal that burnished train. Beautiful city!
There the life-fires brighten, and burn, and roll O'er diamonds that sparkle, o'er sands of gold; Where to breathe the sweet air yields a bliss untold, And the dwellers immortal shall never grow old. Beautiful city!
We pierce the skies with longing eyes, And yearn to inherit the golden prize.
It is said that the King, in his power sublime, When the last sands drop from the glass of time, And our world shall be robed in her Eden prime, Will bring down that city to gladden earth's clime. Beautiful city!
Bright capital where saints will dwell, And reign on the throne with Immanuel.
As jewels flash on the brow of a queen, As the jasper and ruby in crowns are seen, God's city, wrapped in its silver sheen, Will be set like a gem in the new earth's green. Beautiful city!
City of flowers and peaceful bowers! Come down and illumine this dark world of ours!
I have heard in that city they wait for me; That its gates stand open wide and free; That the ransomed the King in his beauty may see, And live in his presence eternally. Beautiful city!
In royal state blest mansions wait, And beckon us on through the pearly gate.
I shall go where the summers will always bloom; I shall walk no more amid trial and gloom; I shall bid farewell to the withering tomb; I shall deck my brow with the conqueror's plume. Beautiful city!
Let us enter in, a crown to win! Our words but half tell of the glory within. —D. T. Taylor.