O Heir of glory, child of light,
How glorious is thy portion there !
Thou art on the way to endless day-
That land of pure delight,
God's home so bright and fair !

Here, angry waves may round thee roar;
Fierce tempests smite thy trembling bark;
But thou shalt land on glory's strand
Where storms beat never more:
'Tis only here it's dark.

Thou art not left to go alone
Across life's bleak and wintry main;
Thy faithful Guide, whatever betide-
He who for thee did once atone-
Shall all the way sustain.

He who led Israel through the wild
Shall ne'er His needy saints forsake;
He'll clear the way through night and day
For every trusting child,
And safe to glory take.

Thy painful way shall shortly end
Above the storm-tossed clouds of time.
The night shall flee, thine eyes shall see
Thy glorious Lord descend-
Oh truth most sweet, sublime!

Though adverse winds around thee blow,
And heavier grows the gloom of night,
Look with faith's eye to Him on high,
That hope in thee may grow
To fuller beams of light.

Soon, faith shall end and sight begin,
And hope give place to ceaseless praise.
And when up there no need for prayer-
No battling there with sin-
But on His face shalt gaze.

There, fashioned by His mighty power,
His own blest image thou shalt bear.
With Him to dwell, what tongue can tell
The glory of that hour
When He shall take thee there !

C. C. Crowston