IN THE REALM OF THE KING.
By J. O. Beard
As FAIR as the lily that grows in the field
Shall be those whom the Lord robes in garments of white,
And Jehovah, their God, is their sun and their shield;
In his blest presence they shall e'er take delight. And the dark curse shall blacken the earth nevermore,
For the stains made by sin have been purged by the fire.
No tumultuous waves shall beat on that shore;
Ne'er again will be felt the hurricane's ire. But softly the breezes sweet fragrance will bear
From the flowers that bloom in perpetual spring;
And the desert shall blossom like rose garden fair,
For perfect is all in that realm of the King. There the lame man shall leap like the swift-springing deer,
And the tongue of the dumb sing as blithe as a bird,
And the ears of the deaf shall sweet music hear,
For all are made whole by the power of his word. The inhabitant never will say, "I am ill,"
And the grim monster Death shall be known nevermore;
But with unending life every bosom shall thrill,
For banished are sickness and death from that shore. And those that shall dwell in that beautiful place
Can never feel sorrow, and know not a care;
But a pure, holy light will shine in each face,
Reflecting in beauty God's image so fair. Like Eden of old its springtime will be,
Like Eden of old its harvest hours too.
Once again will man eat of Life's beautiful tree,
And drink of Life's stream in the glad earth made new. Oh, we long to be robed in those garments of light,
And join the sweet song that the ransomed will sing,
To bask unabashed in his glory so bright,
And shout loud hosannas to Jesus our King! But hush thou, my soul, and patiently wait
Thy Father's own time, for he knoweth best.
'Twill be rapture untold to enter the gate,
And with Jesus at home forever to rest.