Classic Poem

Right happy is the man
Who treats the world as vain,
Compar'd with joys that Christians know,
Whose soul, redeem'd by blood,
And made alive to God,
The earnest feels of heaven below.

When the last trumpet's sound
Alarms creation round,
'Tis heart will glow with calm desire;
Such solid joy and peace
He knows, as will not cease
When earth dissolves in liquid fire.

His mansion-house will stand
When all the solid land
Links with the weight of wrath divine;
When darkness veils the skies,
His soul will thro' them rise,
And with immortal splendour shine.

O Lord of Hosts, thy word
Sure refuge will afford
For those who trust thy promise here,
When all the pow'rs below
And pow'rs of darkness too,
Before thy presence quake with fear.

Then let my soul be found
On this terrestrial ground
Number'd with them that fear thy name
That when the Lord shall come
To take his ransom'd home,
My lot and theirs may prove the same.