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The Coming Rest

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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 13, 1864

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 25, No. 3.

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The Coming Rest.

DARK and thorny is the journey Through which pilgrims make their way, Yet beyond this vale of sorrow Lie the fields of endless day. Fiends, loud howling round their pathway, Make them tremble as they go, And the fiery darts of Satan Often bring their courage low.
O, young soldier, are you weary Of the roughness of the way? Does your strength begin to fail you, And your vigor to decay? Jesus, Jesus, will go with you; He will lead you to his throne, He who shed his blood to save you, He who bore your sins alone!
He whose thunder shakes creation, He who bids the planets roll; He who rides upon the tempest, And his scepter sways the whole; Round him are ten thousand angels, Ready to obey command; They are always hov'ring round you, Till you reach the heavenly land.
There on flow'ry hills of pleasure Lie the fields of endless rest; Love and joy, and peace, forever Reign, and triumph in your breast. Who can paint the scenes of glory, Where the ransomed dwell on high? And on golden harps forever, Sound redemption through the sky?
There's a million flaming seraphs, Who fly 'cross the heavenly plain; There they sing immortal praises, Glory, glory, is their strain. But methinks a sweeter concert Makes the heavenly arches ring, And a song is heard in Zion Which the angels cannot sing.
Oh their crowns, how bright they sparkle! Such as monarchs never wear; They are gone to richer pastures, Jesus is their shepherd there. Hail! ye happy, happy spirits, Death no more shall make you fear, Grief and sorrow, pain and anguish, Shall no more distress you there. [Sel.]