How Amiable Are Thy Tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts

How Amiable Are Thy Tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts

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How beautiful, how beautiful,

The land of promised calm,

Where Sharon's roses ceaseless bloom,

And Gilead's trees of balm;

Where every tear is wiped away,

And every wrong redressed;

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

How beautiful where cherub forms

With cherub voices sing;

And the seraph veils a face of joy

Beneath his folded wing;

Where sainted spirits meekly bow,

Their sins and sorrows done;

The burthen borne, the battle fought,

The victor's garland won.

Why love we then a sin-stained earth?

When fetterless to roam

'Tis ours among yon isles of light;

Each starry isle a home.

Where glorious shapes in vesture bright,

The palm branch in each hand,

With shout of joy, and whispered love,

In radient myriads stand.

Home of the pure and innocent!

Where spirits live and love;

Home, where the holy and the just,

A Saviour's mercies prove.

Home of the Christian's humble hope,

The Christian's ardent prayer;

Who would that humblest hope forego

For all that's certain here?

Unattributed

New Series 2:4, p. 16

1841.03.27