Classic Poem

There shall be no more death,
In that bright world of day
Driven by the Spirit's mighty breath
Eternally away:
Within those city walls
The ransom'd walk in white,
And death's cold shadow never falls
On their glad home of light.

There shall be no more grief
Nor cry of sore distress;
The last sad fading of the leaf
Was in the wilderness:
The springs of grief are dried;
All fountains run with joy,
And swell the calm transparent tide
Of heaven's serene employ.

There shall be no more pain,
No weary feet or hands,
No careworn brow; no wilder'd brain,
No counting the last sands,
A body like the Lord's,
A crystal mind like His,
A spirit tuned to sweep the chords
Of undeclining bliss.

O blessèd home of love,
Secure from storm and strife;
The haunt of the Eternal Dove,
The fatherland of life!
My spirit thither flies;
And surely it is well
With Jesus thus in Paradise
A little while to dwell.