[Dear as Canada was to our authoress, dearer still to her heart was
the true Father-Land, "the heavenly country" for which the children of
faith in the olden time looked. Being born again she bore such a
relationship to the world to come that we may say of her, as she does
of "the bride of Christ": "The Cross was infinitely dearer to her than
ten thousand worlds. It was twined around her heart with ties that
nothing could ever loose. She wept, but they were mingled tears of joy
and sorrow: sorrow, for she mourned that her sins had cost the life of
the Son of God; joy, for she knew that that sacrifice had made a
perfect atonement for her. She knew that the Father had forgiven her
iniquities, and that he would no longer remember her sins. As she
clung to the Cross, a bright beam of glory shone around her; she
raised her tearful eyes, and a crown of everlasting beauty met her
admiring gaze: she knew that crown was reserved for her, and that on
her bridal day her Lord would place it on her own brow." With such an
experience and such a hope, we are not surprised that she should thus
discourse:]
The earth renewed presents a glorious scene:
Mountains and valleys of perpetual green;
Delicious plains, and odoriferous bowers,
Unfading forests, never-dying flowers;
Fruits that on fragrant trees immortal grow,
Rivers that murmur sweetly as they flow,
And gardens decked with everlasting spring,
And shining warblers on the tireless wing.
No howling tempest breaks the sweet repose,
No piercing thorn surrounds the blushing rose,
No sultry heat parches those blooming plains,
No night is known where day forever reigns;
No thunder's roar, no lightning's vivid glare,
No darkened sky, disturbs the beauty there.
The royal city, the divine abode
Of ransomed men and their eternal God,
Rises 'mid blooming bowers and lofty trees,
And waves its banners to the gentle breeze.
Upon its pearly gates and shining walls
A flood of everlasting glory falls,
And tinges with its own delightful glow
The lovely river murmuring below.
That river from the living fountain springs,
And, guided by the mighty King of kings,
It wanders through the saints' celestial home,
Where, robed in white, the ransomed nations roam
Through golden streets, and gardens fair and free;
And on its banks stands life's unfading tree.
All, all is bliss, and love, and glory there;
No pain, no sickness, no corroding care,
No grief, no aching hearts, no tearful eyes,
No broken bands, and there no severed ties;
For, o'er those broad and beautiful domains
The Prince of peace, the great Immanuel reigns.
The good have met, of every age and land,
Around the throne a glorious throng they stand;
The crown of life, the blood-washed robes they wear,
The conqueror's palms of victory they bear;
They bend the knee, they raise the joyful eye;
And hark! Oh, hark! that vast assembly cry:
"Worthy the Lamb to be exalted thus,
Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us!"
And angels with the ransomed millions sing,
"Glory and honor to our God and King!"