Scripture Verse

The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. Isaiah 5:1


Words: Will­iam H. Hyde, in Hymns for God’s Pe­cul­iar Peo­ple That Keep the Com­mand­ments of God and the Faith of Je­sus, 1849.

Music: Com­pos­er un­known (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Hyde (head-and-shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els), would you ?

Some may be in­ter­est­ed in learn­ing the or­i­gin of [this] hymn…In the spring of 1845, the au­thor of the vi­sion [Ell­en Har­mon White], pub­lished in this pa­per, was very sick, nigh un­to death. The el­ders of the church were fi­nal­ly called, and the di­rec­tions of the apos­tle [James 5:14,15] were strict­ly followed.

God heard, an­swered, and healed the sick. The Ho­ly Spi­rit filled the room, and she had a vi­sion of the ci­ty, life’s pure ri­ver, green fields, ros­es of Sha­ron, songs of love­ly birds, the harps, palms, robes, crowns, the mount Zi­on, the tree of life, and the King of that coun­try men­tioned in the hymn.

A bro­ther took up his pen, and in a ve­ry short time com­posed the hymn from the vi­sion. It has been pub­lished in two or three Se­cond Ad­vent pa­pers, Smith’s col­lection of hymns, and fin­al­ly found its way in­to the Ad­vent Harp, pub­lished by J. V. Hines in 1849.

Let those who des­pise pro­phe­syi­ng, and re­ject the ful­fill­ment of God’s word in vi­sions of the LAST DAYS, re­mem­ber, when they sing this hymn, that it was com­posed from a vi­sion.

James White, The Pre­sent Truth, No­vem­ber 1850


We have heard from the bright, the holy land;
We have heard, and our hearts are glad;
For we were a lonely pilgrim band,
And weary, and worn, and sad.
They tell us the saints have a dwelling there—
No longer are homeless ones;
And we know that the goodly land is fair,
Where life’s pure river runs.

They say green fields are waving there,
That never a blight shall know;
And the deserts wild are blooming fair,
And the roses of Sharon grow.
There are lovely birds in the bowers green,
Their songs are blithe and sweet;
And their warblings, gushing ever new,
The angels’ harpings greet.

We have heard of the palms, the robes, the crowns,
And the silvery band in white.
Of the city fair, with pearly gates,
All radiant with light.
We have heard of the angels there, and saints,
With their harps of gold, how they sing;
Of the mount with the fruitful tree of life,
Of the leaves that healing bring.

The King of that country, He is fair,
He’s the joy and light of the place;
In His beauty we shall behold Him there,
And bask in His smiling face.
We’ll be there, we’ll be there in a little while,
We’ll join the pure and the blest;
We’ll have the palm, the robe, the crown,
And forever be at rest.