The Promised Land (Steele)

Far from these nar­row scenes of night

Unbounded glor­ies rise

And realms of in­fin­ite delight

Unknown to mor­tal eyes.

Far dist­ant land—could mor­tal eyes

But half its joys ex­plore

How would our spir­its long to rise

And dwell on earth no more!

There pain and sick­ness nev­er come

And grief no more com­plains!

Health tri­umphs in im­mor­tal bloom

And end­less plea­sure reigns!

From dis­cord free and war’s alarms

And want and pin­ing care

Plenty and peace unite their charms

And smile un­chang­ing there.

There rich va­ri­eties of joy

Continual feast the mind;

Pleasures which fill

but nev­er cloy

Immortal and re­fined!

No fact­ious strife

no en­vy there

The sons of peace mo­lest

But har­mo­ny and love sin­cere

Fill ev­ery hap­py breast.

No cloud those bliss­ful re­gions know

For ev­er bright and fair!

For sin

the source of mor­tal woe

Can nev­er en­ter there.

There no al­ter­nate night is known

Nor sun’s faint sick­ly ray;

But glo­ry from the sac­red throne

Spreads ev­er­last­ing day.

That glo­ri­ous Mon­arch there dis­plays

His beams of won­drous grace;

His hap­py sub­jects sing His praise

And bow be­fore His face.

O may the heav­en­ly pros­pect fire

Our hearts with ar­dent love

Till wings of faith and strong de­sire

Bear ev­ery thought ab­ove.

Prepare us

Lord

by grace di­vine

For Thy bright courts on high;

Then bid our spir­its rise and join

The chor­us of the sky.