(by
Isaac Watts)
There is a and of pure delight / Where Saints
immortal reign / Infinite day excludes the night /
And pleasures banish pain
There,
everlasting spring abides / And never withering flowers / Death,
like a narrow sea,
divides / This heav'nly land from ours
Sweet
fields beyond the swelling flood / Stand dressed in living green
/ So, to the Jews old
Canaan stood / While Jordan rolled between
But
timorous mortals start and shrink / To cross this narrow sea
/ And linger, shiv'ring on the
brink / And fear to launch away
O
could we make our doubts remove / Those gloomy thoughts that
rise And see the Canaan
that we love / With unbeclouded eyes
Could
we climb where Moses stood / And view the landscape o'er / Not
Jordan's stream, nor
death cold flood / Should fright us from the shore
