"There is a place of sacred rest,
Far, far beyond the skies.
Where beauty smiles eternally,
And pleasure never dies.

O, my soul, rise on the wings of meditation, and survey the glories of Immanuel's land! Look beyond the dim visions of mortality- beyond the swellings of Jordan- beyond the gloomy grave, and behold, with the eye of faith, those delectable mountains where the city of our God shines in more than earthly splendor; and where millions of happy saints are to reign in glory, while infinite ages roll away. This is our happy dwelling place- our Father's house. How brightly those celestial mansions shine, irradiated by the glory of Immanuel! No cloud rests on these peaceful dwellings. There all is light and joy. Our Heavenly Father is there; and in his gracious smile there is joy unspeakable and full of glory. There we shall rest in Abraham's bosom. There vine shall dwell with that Friend who "loves at all times;"- there the Savior will be in our midst, to refresh our souls with the glorious manifestations of his eternal love. He will appear in perfect beauty from Zion's holy hill. There Sharon's lovely rose will bloom in everlasting day.

"Oh! blessed Spirit, to my heart
This dear celestial flower impart;
With joy I'll prize the Savior here,
Then go to heaven and view him there."

In glory, Christ shall appear in all the loveliness of his person and character. The presence of Him who loved us, and gave himself for us, will make a sweet, glorious heaven indeed. Clad in the spotless robes of redeeming righteousness, we shall follow the Lamb to living fountains of waters- to perennial streams of pleasures- to boundless oceans of joys; and in the enjoyment of the Savior's presence we shall be perfectly happy. Within us, all will be peace; around us, all will be glorious. Immanuel's land is a place of unfading beauty! Eternal spring blooms in the realms of endless day.

"How unlike this state below!
There the flowers unwithering grow,
There no chilling blasts annoy,
All is love, and bloom, and joy."

How sweet for the weary Christian pilgrim, while passing through this wilderness scene, to think of that blessed abode! Dear follower of Jesus, meditate much on heaven- your happy home. Think of the rapturous delight you must experience in the courts of Paradise, while vast eternity glides along! O, what ecstatic joy must reign in the ransomed family of the Lord when they are admitted to see the King in his beauty; when they come to dwell forever in the Paradise of God! With joy anticipate that glorious hour, when your happy spirit, freed from its clay tabernacle, shall take its flight to those pure regions of bliss, where it shall receive a crown of glory that fades not away.

"Oh, glorious hour, it comes with speed!
When we, from sin and darkness freed,
Shall see the God who died for man,
And praise him more than angels can."

Live with heaven always in view. Endeavor to obtain a glimpse of the happy land, and in a little while you will have reached the blissful coast. You will soon enjoy the refreshing breezes of the saint's rest. One step more and you will have gained the happy shores of Immanuel's land, where you shall tread with your Redeemer the ceaseless round of eternity! In view of such blessedness, who would not exclaim in joyful tones, "Come, Lord Jesus! Come quickly!" O, that the happy hour was come when we shall rest with Jesus in the Paradise of God!

In the blessed hope of a glorious immortality, let us look beyond this dying world, and gaze on the glories of our heavenly home, until hope is turned into fruition, and faith into vision. Let us long for the sight of that blissful city- that happy home in which we are to spend a glorious eternity.

"And now I entrust you to God and the word of his grace—his message that is able to build you up and give you an inheritance with all those he has set apart for himself." Hoping to meet you on the shores of Immanuel's land, where the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne shall feed us, and lead us unto living fountains of waters; where God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes; and where we shall sing the song of redeeming love through countless ages of glory. I would, until then, leave you in the tender and compassionate arms of Jesus, the Friend of Sinners.

"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
Would God I were with thee!
Oh that my sorrows had an end,
Your joys that I might see!
Your walls are made of precious stone,
Your bulwarks, diamond square
Your gates are made of Orient pearl;
O God, that I were there!
O happy harbor of God's saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In you no sorrows can be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.
No dimming cloud o'ershadows you;
No gloom nor darksome night,
But every soul shines as the sun,
For God himself gives light.
Lord, in my forehead plant your name
And take me hence away,
That I may dwell with you in bliss,
And sing your praise for aye!
Jerusalem! my happy home.
O how I long for thee,
Then shall my labors have an end,
When once your joys I see."

Addendum. This much loved poem was extracted from the letters of Samuel Rutherford (a puritan pastor in Anwoth, Scotland in the 1600's).


The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of Heaven breaks,
The summer morn I've sighed for,
The fair sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark has been the midnight,
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Oh! well it is for ever,
Oh! well for evermore,
My nest hung in no forest
Of all this death-doomed shore:
Yes, let the vain world vanish,
As from the ship the strand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

There the Red Rose of Sharon
Unfolds its heartsome bloom,
And fills the air of Heaven
With ravishing perfume.
Oh! to behold it blossom,
While by its fragrance fanned
Where glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

The King there in His beauty,
Without a veil, is seen,
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between.
The Lamb, with His fair army,
Does on Mount Zion stand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Oh! Christ He is the Fountain,
The deep sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I've tasted,
More deep I'll drink above:
There, to an ocean fullness,
His mercy does expand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Even Anwoth was not heaven;
Even preaching was not Christ;
And in my sea-beat prison
My Lord and I held tryst:
And aye my murkiest storm-cloud
Was by a rainbow spanned
Caught from the glory dwelling
In Immanuel's land.

But that He built a heaven
Of His surpassing love,
A little New Jerusalem,
Like to the one above,-
"Lord, take me o'er the water,"
Had been my loud demand,
"Take me to love's own country,
Unto Immanuel's land."

But flowers need night's cool darkness
The moonlight and the dew;
So Christ, from one who loved it,
His shining oft withdrew;
And then for cause of absence,
My troubled soul I scanned-
But glory, shadeless, shineth
In Immanuel's land.

The little birds of Anwoth
I used to count them blest,
Now, beside happier altars
I go to build my nest:
O'er these there broods no silence,
No graves around them stand,
For glory, deathless, dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Fair Anwoth by the Solway,
To me thou sill art dear!
E'en from the verge of Heaven
I drop for thee a tear.
Oh! if one soul from Anwoth
Meet me at God's right hand,
My Heaven will be two Heavens,
In Immanuel's land.

I've wrestled on toward Heaven,
'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide,
Now, like a weary traveler,
That leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life's ling'ring sand,
I hail the glory dawning
From Immanuel's land.

Deep water crossed life's pathway,
The hedge of thorns was sharp;
Now these lie all behind me,
Oh! for a well-tuned harp!
Oh! to join Hallelujah
with yon triumphant band,
Who sing, where glory dwelleth,
In Immanuel's land.

With mercy and with judgment
My web of time He wove,
And aye the dews of sorrow
Were lustered with His love.
I'll bless the hand that guided,
I'll bless the heart that planned,
When throned where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Soon shall the cup of glory
Wash down earth's bitterest woes,
Soon shall the desert-briar
Break into Eden's rose.
The curse shall change to blessing,
The name on earth that's banned,
Be graven on the white stone
In Immanuel's land.

Oh! I am my Beloved's,
And my Beloved is mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into His "House of wine."
I stand upon His merit,
I know no other stand,
Not e'en where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

I shall sleep sound in Jesus
Filled with His likeness rise,
To live and to adore Him,
To see Him with these eyes
'Tween me and resurrection
But Paradise does stand;
Then, then for glory dwelling
In Immanuel's land!

The Bride eyes not her garment
But her dear Bridegroom's face;
I will not gaze at glory,
But on my King of Grace,
Not at the crown He giveth,
But on His pierced hand:
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel's land.

I have borne scorn and hatred,
I have borne wrong and shame,
Earth's proud ones have reproached me,
For Christ's thrice blessed name,
Where God is seal set fairest
They've stamped their foulest brand;
But judgment shines like noonday
In Immanuel's land.

They've summoned me before them,
But there I may not come,
My Lord says, "Come up hither,"
My Lord says, "Welcome Home!"
My kingly King, at His white throne,
My presence does command,
Where glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.