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The Christian's Hope

8, 8, 8, 6, 8, 8, 8, 6

Wm. Walker

Dover Selection, p. 173


A few more days on earth to spend,

And all my toils and cares shall end,

And I shall see my God and friend,

And praise his name on high:

No more to sigh nor shed a tear,

No more to suffer pain or fear;

But God, and Christ, and heaven appear,

Unto the raptured eye.


Then, O my soul, despond no more;

The storm of life will soon be o'er,

And I shall find the peaceful shore

Of everlasting rest.

O happy day! O joyful hour!

When, freed from earth, my soul shall tower

Beyond the reach of Satan's power,

To be for ever blest.


My soul anticipates the day,

I'll joyfully the call obey,

Which comes to summon me away

To seats prepared above.

There I shall see my Savior's face,

And dwell in his beloved embrace

And taste the fulness of his grace,

And sing redeeming love.


Though dire afflictions press me sore,

And death's dark billows roll before,

Yet still by faith I see the shore,

Beyond the rolling flood:

The banks of Canaan, sweet and fair,

Before my raptured eyes appear:

It makes me think I'm almost there,

In yonder bright abode.


To earthly cares I bid farewell,

And triumph over death and hell,

And go where saints and angels dwell,

To praise the Eternal Three.

I'll join with those who're gone before,

Who sing and shout their sufferings o'er,

Where pain and parting are no more,

To all eternity.


Adieu, ye scenes of noise and show,

And all this region here below,

Where naught but disappointments grow

A better world's in view.

My Savior calls! I haste away,

I would not here for ever stay;

Hail! ye bright realms of endless day

Vain world, once more adieu!

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