There is a land of pure delight
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There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers; Death, like a narrow sea, divides That heavenly land from ours. Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood Stand dressed in living green; So to the Jews old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between. But timorous mortals start and shrink To cross the narrow sea, And linger shivering on the brink, And fear to launch away. O could we make our doubts remove, Those gloomy doubts that rise, And see the Canaan that we love With unbeclouded eyes; Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er; Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, Should fright us from the shore. |
Sanctoruin regionibus amoenitas mera et est dies perpetuus nec ulla tristia. Ver infinitum est ibi, floresque renovat; angustique instar nos freti mors inde separat et pratis a virentibus sic unda dirimit Jordane Judaeis locus ut sponsus afuit. Nec homines tamen volunt abire margine sed ibi territi tremunt timentque solvere. Funesta dubitatio pellatur utinam nudoque detur oculo spectare patriam! Quae nobis modo visa sit Moysi similibus, Jordanis sive mors erit, in flumen ibimus. |