Heaven, Rest of
5 items
William Hunter·Modern
Verse 1
In the Christian’s home in glory,
There remains a land of rest;
There my Savior’s gone before me
To fulfill my soul’s request.
Refrain
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for you.
On the other side of Jordan,
In the sweet fields of Eden,
Where the tree of life is blooming,
There is rest for you.
Verse 2
He is fitting up my mansion,
Which eternally shall stand.
For my stay shall not be transient,
In that holy, happy land.
Verse 3
Pain and sickness ne’er shall enter,
Grief nor woe my lot shall share;
But, in that celestial center,
I a crown of life shall wear.
Verse 4
Death itself shall then be vanquished
And his sting shall be withdrawn;
Shout for gladness, oh, ye ransomed
Hail with joy the rising morn
Verse 5
Sing, oh! sing, ye heirs of glory
Shout your triumph as you go;
Zion’s gate will open for you,
You shall find an entrance through.
William Hunter, “In the Christian's Home in Glory”
William Hunter·Modern
Verse 1
In the Christian’s home in glory,
There remains a land of rest;
There my Savior’s gone before me
To fulfill my soul’s request.
Refrain
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for you.
On the other side of Jordan,
In the sweet fields of Eden,
Where the tree of life is blooming,
There is rest for you.
Verse 2
He is fitting up my mansion,
Which eternally shall stand.
For my stay shall not be transient,
In that holy, happy land.
Verse 3
Pain and sickness ne’er shall enter,
Grief nor woe my lot shall share;
But, in that celestial center,
I a crown of life shall wear.
Verse 4
Death itself shall then be vanquished
And his sting shall be withdrawn;
Shout for gladness, oh, ye ransomed
Hail with joy the rising morn
Verse 5
Sing, oh! sing, ye heirs of glory
Shout your triumph as you go;
Zion’s gate will open for you,
You shall find an entrance through.
Samuel Stennett·Post-Reformation
Verse 1
On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.
Refrain
We will rest in the fair and happy land,
Just across on the evergreen shore,
Sing the song of Moses and the Lamb, by and by,
And dwell with Jesus evermore.
Verse 2
O’er all those wide-extended plains
Shines one eternal day;
There God the Son forever reigns
And scatters night away.
Verse 3
When shall I reach that happy place,
And be forever blest?
When shall I see my Father’s face,
And in his bosom rest?
Verse 4
Filled with delight, my raptured soul
Would here no longer stay;
Tho’ Jordan’s waves around me roll,
Fearless I’d launch away.
Samuel Stennett, “On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand”
Samuel Stennett·Post-Reformation
On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand
Verse 1
On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.
Refrain
We will rest in the fair and happy land,
Just across on the evergreen shore,
Sing the song of Moses and the Lamb, by and by,
And dwell with Jesus evermore.
Verse 2
O’er all those wide-extended plains
Shines one eternal day;
There God the Son forever reigns
And scatters night away.
Verse 3
When shall I reach that happy place,
And be forever blest?
When shall I see my Father’s face,
And in his bosom rest?
Verse 4
Filled with delight, my raptured soul
Would here no longer stay;
Tho’ Jordan’s waves around me roll,
Fearless I’d launch away.
William B. Tappan·Modern
Verse 1
There is an hour of peaceful rest
To mourning wand’rers giv’n;
There is a joy for souls distressed,
A balm for ev’ry wounded breast--
’Tis found above--in heav’n.
Verse 2
There is a soft, a downy bed,
’Tis fair as breath of even;
A couch for weary mortals spread,
Where they may rest the aching head,
And find repose--in heav’n.
Verse 3
There is a home for weary souls,
By sin and sorrow driv’n;
When tossed on life’s tempestuous shoals,
Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,
And all is drear--but heav’n.
Verse 4
There faith lifts up her cheerful eye,
To brighter prospects giv’n;
And views the tempest passing by,
The evening shadows quickly fly,
And all serene--in heav’n.
William B. Tappan, “There Is an Hour of Peaceful Rest”