SECOND PART.
The mountains high, the rivers clear,
Where heaven sheds her dews and tears,
In silence, or with gentle roar,
The God of love and peace adore.
The earth, and air, and sea, and sky,
The holy spirit from on high,
And angels who above do reign,
Cry peace on earth, good will to men.
But most of all a Saviour's love,
Was manifested from above,
He died and rose to life again,
Our freedom, love and peace to gain.
But man,—vile man, alone seems lost,
With hatred, pride and envy tossed,
His hardened soul does seldom move,
In freedom, union, peace or love.
For him, let all creation mourn;
O'er him did Enoch's bosom yearn,
Till he was promised from above,
A day of freedom, peace and love.
INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS.
"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."
This earth shall be a blessed place,
To saints celestial given;
Where Christ again shall show his face,
With the redeemed of Adam's race,
In clouds descend from heaven.
Yes, when he comes on earth again,
The wicked burn as stubble;
Thus all his enemies are slain,
And o'er the nations he shall reign,
And end the scenes of trouble.
The trump of war is heard no more,
But all their strife is ended;
While Jesus shall all things restore
To order, as they were before,
And peace o'er all extended.
Sing, O ye heavens! let earth rejoice,
While saints shall flow to Zion,
And rear the temple of his choice,
And in its courts unite their voice,
In praise to Judah's Lion.
Hosanna to the reign of peace!
The day so long expected;
When earth shall find a full release,
The groanings of creation cease,
The righteous well protected.
Come, sound his praise in joyful strains.
Who dwell beneath his banner;
He'll bind old Satan fast in chains,
And wide o'er earth's extended plains,
The nations shout Hosanna.
REDEMPTION OF ZION.
Lo, far in the realms of Missouri,
When peace crowns the meek and the lowly,
The loud storms of envy and folly
May roll all their billows in vain.
The wicked, with evil intention,
May rouse all their powers of invention,
With lying, intrigue and contention,
Their end will be sorrow and pain.
The saints, crowned with songs of rejoicing,
To Zion shall flow from all nations,
Escaping the great conflagration,
They find out the regions of peace.
Though scattered and driven asunder.
As exiles and pilgrims to wander,
A scene on which angels do ponder,
Yet Jesus will bring their release.
When empires of Babel shall tumble,
Their fabrics in ashes shall crumble,
The Lord will provide for the humble
A city of refuge and peace.
There, there the Lord will deliver
The soul of each faithful believer,
And save them forever and ever,
And sorrow and sighing shall cease.
The saints for those blessings aspire,
And wait with exceeding desire,
Till earth shall be cleansed by fire,
And they their inheritance gain.
Hosanna, such blessings inspire
A song from the heavenly choir,
They sing of the coming Messiah,
From heaven in glory to reign.
REFLECTIONS ON A SUMMER EVENING.
Another day has fled and gone,
The sun declines in western skies,
The birds retired, have ceased their song,
Let ours in pure devotion rise.
The moon her splendid course resumes,
She sheds her light o'er land and sea,
The gentle dews in soft perfumes
Fall sweetly o'er each herb and tree.
While here in meditation sweet,
Those happy hours I call to mind,
When with the saints I oft have met,
Our hearts in pure devotion joined.
Those friends afar I call to mind,
When shall we meet again below;
Their hearts affectionate and kind,
How did they soothe my grief and woe.
As flow'rets in their brightest bloom,
Are withered by the chilling blast,
So man's fond hopes are like a dream,
His days how fleet, how swift they pass.
But cease this melancholy moan,
Nor sigh for those who will not come,
For Israel surely will return
To Zion and Jerusalem.
There is a source of pure delight
For ever shall support my heart:
For Zion's land's revealed to sight,
Where saints will meet no more to part.
MISSION OF THE TWELVE.
How fleet the precious moments roll,
How soon the harvest will be o'er:
The watchmen seek their final rest,
And lift a warning voice no more.
Another year has roll'd away
And took its thousands to the tomb;
Its sorrows and its joys are fled,
To hasten on the general doom.
And eighteen hundred thirty five.
Is rolling swiftly on the wing,
And soon the leaves and tendrils thrive;
A token of returning spring.
The fulness of the gospel shines
With glorious and resplendent rays;
The earth and heav'ns show forth their signs.
As tokens of the latter days.