And heaven shall pour its beams around,
Till the ripe harvest load the ground.
4Then shall the trembling mourner come
And bind his sheaves and bear them home;
The voice long broke with sighs shall sing,
Till heaven with hallelujahs ring.
608. L. M. 6l. Grant.
"He is able to save unto the uttermost."
1When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies;