All Men Living Are But Mortal

All men living are but mortal,

Yea, all flesh must fade as grass;

Only through death's gloomy portal

To eternal life we pass.

This frail body here must perish

Ere the heav'nly love joys it cherish,

Ere it gain the free reward

For the ransomed of the Lord.

Therefore, when my God doth choose it,

Willingly I'll yield my life

Nor will grieve that I should lose it,

For with sorrows it was rife.

In my dear Redeemer's merit

Peace hath found my troubled spirit,

And in death my comfort this:

Jesus' death my source of bliss.

Jesus for my sake descended

My salvation to obtain;

Death and hell for me are ended,

Peace and hope are now my gain;

Yea, with joy I leave earth's sadness

For the home of heav'nly gladness,

Where I shall forever see

God, the Holy Trinity.

There is joy beyond our telling,

Where so many saints have gone;

Thousands, thousands, there are dwelling,

Worshiping before the throne,

There the seraphim are shining,

Evermore in chorus joining:

"Holy, holy, holy Lord!

Triune God, for aye adored!"

Patriarchs of sacred story

And the prophets there are found;

The apostles, too, in glory

On twelve seats are there enthroned,

All the saints that have ascended

Age on age, through time extended,

There in blissful concert sing

Hallelujahs to their King.

O Jerusalem, how glorious

Dost thou shine, thou city fair!

Lo, I hear the tone victorious

Ever sweetly sounding there.

Oh, the bliss that there surprises!

Lo, the sun of morn now rises,

And the breaking day I see

That shall never end for me.

Yea, I see what here was told me,

See that wondrous glory shine,

Feel the spotless robes enfold me,

Know a golden crown is mine,

Thus before the throne so glorious

Now I stand a soul victorious,

Gazing on that joy for aye

That shall never pass away.





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