Mistaken Souls, That Dream of Heav’n

Mistaken souls

that dream of Heav’n

And make their emp­ty boast

Of in­ward joys

and sins for­giv’n

While they are slaves to lust.

Vain are our fan­cies

ai­ry flights

If faith be cold and dead;

None but a liv­ing pow­er unites

To Christ the liv­ing Head.

’Tis faith that chang­es all the heart;

’Tis faith that works by love;

That bids all sin­ful joys de­part

And lifts the thoughts ab­ove.

’Tis faith that con­quers earth and hell

By a ce­les­ti­al pow­er;

This is the grace that shall pre­vail

In the de­ci­sive hour.

Faith must ob­ey her Fa­ther’s will

As well as trust His grace;

A par­don­ing God is jea­lous still

For His own ho­li­ness.

When from the curse He sets us free

He makes our na­tures clean;

Nor would He send His Son to be

The min­is­ter of sin.

His Spir­it pu­ri­fies our frame

And seals our peace with God;

Jesus and His sal­va­tion came

By wa­ter and by blood.