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The Book of Praise.
Hunger they ne'er shall feel again, Nor burning thirst shall they sustain : To wells of living water led, By God the Lamb for ever fed.
Unknown to mortal ears, they sing The secret glories of their King : Tell me the subject of their lays, And whence their loud exalted praise ?
Jesus, the Saviour, is their theme ; They sing the wonders of His Name; To Him ascribing power and grace, Dominion, and eternal praise.
Amen ! they cry, to Him alone, Who dares to fill His Father's throne ; They give Him glory, and again Repeat His praise, and say, Amen !
Rowland Hill. 1783.
O happy saints, who dwell in light, And walk with Jesus, clothed in white ; Safe landed on that peaceful shore, Where pilgrims meet to part no more.
Released from sin, and toil, and grief-Death was their gate to endless life ; An open'd cage, to let them fly And build their happy nest on high.
And now they range the heavenly plains, And sing their hymns in melting strains ; And now their souls begin to prove The heights and depths of Jesus' love.