The dullest preachers are sure to give it out, and that when there are the greatest number of restless children wondering when it will be time to go home. It is only within ten years that modern hymn books have altered it, returning in part to the original.
“I do not think we have chosen the best parts of that hymn for our ‘service of song.’ You never read the whole of it? You don’t know how pretty it is! It is a relief from the customary palms and choirs. One’s whole heart is glad of the outlet of its sweet refrain,—
‘Would God that I were there!’
before one has half read it. You are quite ready to believe that
‘There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,
But pleasure every way.’
Listen to this:—
‘Thy houses are of ivory,
Thy windows crystal clear,
Thy tiles are made of beaten gold;
O God, that I were there!
‘We that are here in banishment
Continually do moan.
. . . . . . . . . .
‘Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall,
Our pleasure is but pain,
Our joys scarce last the looking on,
Our sorrows still remain.
‘But there they live in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
As that to them a thousand years
Doth seem as yesterday.’