The Holy City | AdventAI

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Michigan · Aug 4, 1863

The Holy City.

THERE is a wondrous city beyond the Stygean flood, By mortal vision never seen, by mortal foot ne'er trod; Its walls are made of amethyst, of jasper, and of gold, And its foundations precious stones whose wealth can ne'er be told; Twelve gates—each gate a single pearl of wondrous beauty rare,— Are in those walls, but never shut; for there's no darkness there; The streets are paved with crystal gold, more pure than e'er was known, Transparent as a sea of glass; clear as the jasper stone. No waning moon, no setting sun, shines on that world so fair, No candle with its flickering light is ever needed there; No night spreads out its somber pall above that city bright, For God the Father, God the Lamb, its glory are and light; No crumbling temple rears aloft its tall and stately spire, For God Almighty and the Lamb its only temple are. There stands the glittering sapphire throne of its Eternal King, Where priests and prophets of the earth their costliest treasures bring. Around that throne, in fadeless hues, the bright-winged rainbows lie, Reflected from that sea of glass against an azure sky; And from it flows a crystal stream whose waters never dry, Where thirsty souls may freely drink, and never, never die; A beauteous tree that never fades grows on each shining shore, And he who eats its living fruits shall never hunger more; And from its leaves a healing balm floats on the ambient air, So that no sickness, pain or death can ever enter there. Bright beings throng that city blessed, with happy, radiant brows, For God has wiped away all tears, no grief can reach them now; They chant a new and rapturous song, learned in that glorious land, Each wears a golden, starry crown; a palm is in each hand; Cleansed in a Saviour's precious blood, spotless the robes they wear, They dwell with God, and God with them,—no sin can reach them there. That city fair no time can dim, within are mansions blessed, Prepared for God's anointed ones when he shall give them rest.

CONCEIVE of a child passing over rocks where there is scarcely room for his feet, and where the path is so slippery that it is hardly possible for him to stand, and where there are precipices on every side so steep and tremendous that a single false step must of necessity cause him to be dashed in pieces; conceive of a father guiding his beloved child in all this way, "holding him by the right hand," that he may not fall, and raising him up if he has fallen, and preserving him from all danger to which he is exposed; here you see our God with the soul that trusts in Him. Not for one moment does he leave the trembling saint.