Methinks I stand up­on the rock
Where Ba­laam stood, and won­der­ing look
Upon the scene be­low:
The tents of Ja­cob good­ly seem,
The people hap­py I es­teem,
Whom God has fa­vored so.

The sons of Is­ra­el stand alone,
Jehovah claims them for His own,
His cause and theirs the same:
He saved them from the ty­rant’s hand,
Allots to them a plea­sant land,
And calls them by His name.

Their toils have al­most reached a close,
And soon in peace they shall re­pose
Within the pro­mised land:
E’en now its ris­ing hills are seen,
Enriched with ev­er­last­ing green,
Where Is­ra­el soon shall stand.

O Israel, who is like to thee?
A peo­ple saved, and called to be
Peculiar to the Lord!
Thy shield! He guards thee from the foe;
Thy sword! He fights thy bat­tles, too;
Himself thy great re­ward!

Fear not, though many should op­pose,
For God is strong­er than thy foes,
And makes thy cause His own:
The pro­mised land before thee lies,
Go up, and take the glo­ri­ous prize
Reserved for thee alone.

In glo­ry there the King ap­pears;
He wipes away His peo­ple’s tears,
And makes their sor­rows cease:
From toil and strife they there re­pose,
And dwell se­cure from all their foes,
In ev­er­last­ing peace.

Fair em­blem of a bet­ter rest,
Of which be­liev­ers are pos­sessed,
Beyond ma­ter­ial space!
Methinks I see the dist­ant shore,
Where sin and sor­row are no more;
And long to reach the place.

Nor shall I al­ways ab­sent be
From Him my soul de­sires to see,
Within the realms of light;
Ere long my Lord will rend the veil,
And not a cloud shall then con­ceal
His glo­ry from my sight.

Sweet hope! it makes the cow­ard brave;
It makes a free­man of the slave,
And bids the slug­gard rise;
It lifts a worm of earth on high,
It gives him wings, and makes him fly
To worlds be­yond the skies.