Draw near, O ye blessed, and help me to sing
The treasures for you laid in store,
When at last you shall meet your dear Shepherd and King,
To weep in this desert no more.

Oh think with what rapt'rous shouts we shall rise
To join with the glorified choirs,
When Jesu's bright chariot appears in the skies
And death at his coming expires!

When " Come, O ye blessed," sounds sweet our ears,
By love everlasting exprest,
What place will be found for our doubts an our fears
In sight of the mansion of rest?

No more shall the wicked our comforts annoy
Nor conscience from guilt feel a wound;
No tree of temptation, our peace to destroy
Shall in the blest region be found.

To passions, unholy, our bosoms shall move
To taint the fair mansions with strife:
Our Shepherd shall feed us on pastures of love,
And lead us to fountains of life.

Look up, ye dejected, that weep as ye go,
And complain that no comfort ye prove;
Hoist down your sad willows, and sing while below
Of the bliss that awaits you above.

Anticipate heav'n, it will sweeten those hours
When sorrows all round you appear;
Till strew all the road to mount Sion with flowers,
And smooth the rough path-way of care.