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 Wide open the effulgent gates shall fling, And bid thee enter; there, beside the throne Where sits the Lamb, shall show thee the bright Home, For Him and his for ever dear redeemed Builded of God ere yet the worlds were made. Lift, lift thy glance, O mortal, troubled, sad, And lose thy griefs and fears in thoughts of Heaven!

There wait thee solid joys. What most thy heart Hath yearned to find, yet ever sought in vain Through perished hopes and crosses ever new— Sweet rest, with full content—thou there shalt know. Thy cup of blessing filled, thou shalt behold Divinest splendors, all things bright and fair; With which compared, earth's purest loveliness Remembered shall all unsubstantial seem, A shadow and a type. Thy treasures lost, By stem Death wrested from thy warm embrace, Now clothed in spiritual beauty and complete In all celestial graces, still thine own, There thou again shalt find. Theirs the old love,