Hymn 401. The Promised Land

Isa. 33. 17. 

         Far from these narrow scenes of night

                     Unbounded glories rise,

         And realms of infinite delight,

                     Unknown to mortal eyes.

         Fair 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 refin’d!                                                                 

         No factious strife, no envy there,

                     The songs 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.

         The glorious monarch there displays

                     His beams of wonderous 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.

Text: Timothy Whelan, gen. ed., Nonconformist Women Writers, 8 vols. (London: Pickering & Chatto, 2011), vol. 1, pp. 138-40; Collection of Hymns Adapted to Public Worship, no. 401 (stanzas 1-3, 7-8, 10-11); Poems, 1780, vol. 1, pp. 155-56; no MS copy, Angus Library, Regents Park College,  Oxford.