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354 Summer


I would not live alway; I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way; 
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here,
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.

I would not live alway; no! - welcome the tomb,
Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom;
There sweet be  my rest, till He bid me arise,
Then to hail Him in triumph descending the skies.

Who, who would live alway, away from his God,
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,
Where rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns.

Where saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Savior and brethren transported to greet,
While anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.


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