The city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. Revelation 21:23
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O precious flowers! O glorious bowers!
O blest, immortal bloom;
How wondrous bright must be the light
Beyond death’s chilling gloom.
O beautiful heav’nly light,
So wonderful, pure and bright;
Point me still to Zion’s hill,
Beautiful heav’nly light.
O land divine, such wealth of thine
Comes down my soul to cheer;
Though tangled thorn my heart hath torn,
Still, still thy light is near.
The fogs may rise to dim the skies,
And night’s chill dews may fall;
Through every ill, my soul, be still:
Christ reigneth over all.
O keep me still, by thy good will;
Yea, lead me all the way,
To that blest shore where night no more
Shall veil the brow of day.