Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.@Matthew 6:20-21

Eliel Davis, 1821.

Kensal Green Philip P. Bliss, 1874 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Philip P. Bliss (1838-1876)

From every earthly pleasure
From every transient joy,
From every mortal treasure
That soon will fade and die:
No longer these desiring,
Upward our wishes tend,
No nobler bliss aspiring,
And joys that never end.

From every piercing sorrow
That heaves our breast today,
Or threatens us tomorrow—
Hope turns our eyes away;
On wings of faith ascending,
We see the land of light;
And feel our sorrows ending
In infinite delight.

’Tis true we are but strangers
And sojourners here below;
And countless snares and dangers
Surround the path we go;
Though painful and distressing,
There is a rest above,
And onward we are pressing
To reach that land of love.