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Weary Pilgrim's Consolation

12, 11, 12, 11, 12, 12, 12, 11

C. H. Pare

1.

How sweet to reflect on the joys that await me

In yon blissful region, the haven of rest,

Where glorified spirits with welcome shall greet me,

And lead me to mansions prepared for the blest;

Encircled in light, and with glory enshrouded,

My happiness perfect, my mind's sky unclouded,

I'll bathe in the ocean of pleasure unbounded,

And range with delight through the Eden of love.

2.

While angelic legions, with harps tuned celestial,

Harmoniously join in the concert of praise,

The saints, as they flock from the regions terrestrial,

In loud hallelujah their voices will raise;

Then songs to the Lamb shall re-echo through heaven,

My soul will respond, to Immanuel be given

All glory, all honor, all might and dominion,

Who brought us, through grace to the Eden of love.

3.

Then hail, blessed state! hail, ye songsters of glory!

Ye harpers of bliss, soon I'll meet you above,

And join your full choir in rehearsing the story,

Salvation from sorrow through Jesus's love.

Though prisoned in earth, yet by anticipation

Already my soul feels a sweet prelibation

Of joys that await me when freed from probation

My heart's now in heaven the Eden of love.

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