The Freed Soul

The Freed Soul

From the earth thy spirit hath flow,

Far beyond the etherial blue;

True the clods of the vale o'er thy body we cast,

But thy spirit the grave did eschew.

To the city of God it hath flown,

Where sin and disease never come,

Where sighing and death are no more,

For God is the light of that home.

There wilt thou dwell in the city of gold,

There by the clear-flowing river,

Where the life-giving tree its fruitage unfolds,

Thou shalt linger forever and ever.

By the great white Throne thou shalt stand,

And shalt harp with the harpers in glory,

Whilst thy white-robed spirit triumphantly joins

In the new song, "Thou Lamb we adore thee."

Thou shalt chant on the ocean of glass,

Which is all intermingled with fire,

More sweetly the praise of the Father and Son,

And thy hands shall awake the glad lyre.

Miss E.C. King

1:42, p. 1

5.5.1860