The wall of it was of jasper: and the city was pure gold.@Revelation 21:18
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Ellen M. Gates (1835–1920)

Ell­en M. H. Gates, 1865.

Phil­ip Phi­llips (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Philip Phillips (1834–1895)

Now I saw in my dream that these two men [Chris­tian and Hope­ful] went in at the gate; and lo, as they en­tered, they were trans­fig­ured; and they had rai­ment put on them that shone like gold. There were al­so those that met them with harps and crowns and gave them to them; the harps to praise with­al, and the crowns in tok­en of hon­or. Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the ci­ty rang again for joy, and that it was said to them: ‘En­ter ye into the joy of your Lord!’…Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in af­ter them, and be­hold, the ci­ty shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold; and in them walked ma­ny men, with crowns on their heads and palms in their hands, and gold­en harps to sing prais­es withal…Af­ter that, they shut up the gates which, when I had seen, I wished my­self among them.Bun­yan’s Pilg­rim’s Prog­ress.

The above ex­tract, wrote Phil­ip Phil­lips, I sent to Mrs. El­len H. Gates, ask­ing her to write a suit­a­ble hymn. When the vers­es were for­ward­ed to me, in 1865, I seat­ed my­self in my home with my lit­tle boy on my knee, and with Bun­yan’s im­mor­tal dream-book in my hand, and be­gan to read the clos­ing scenes where Chris­tian and Hope­ful en­tered in­to the ci­ty—won­der­ing at Bun­yan’s rare gen­ius, and like the dream­er of old wish­ing my­self among them. At this mo­ment of in­spir­a­tion I turned to my or­gan, with pen­cil in hand, and wrote the tune. This hymn seems to have had God’s spe­cial bless­ing up­on it from the ve­ry be­gin­ning. One man writes me that he has led in the sing­ing of it at a hund­red and twen­ty fun­er­als. It was sung at the fun­er­al of my own dear boy, who had sat on my knee when I wrote the tune.

And I sang this hymn over the re­mains of my b­elov­ed friend, Phil­ip Phil­lips, at Fre­don­ia, New York.

Sankey, pp. 156–57

I will sing you a song of that beautiful land,
The far away home of the soul,
Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand,
While the years of eternity roll,
While the years of eternity roll;
Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand,
While the years of eternity roll.

Oh, that home of the soul! In my visions and dreams
Its bright, jasper walls I can see;
Till I fancy but thinly the veil intervenes
Between the fair city and me,
Between the fair city and me;
Till I fancy but thinly the veil intervenes
Between the fair city and me.

That unchangeable home is for you and for me,
Where Jesus of Nazareth stands;
The King of all kingdoms forever is He,
And He holdeth our crowns in His hands,
And He holdeth our crowns in His hands;
The King of all kingdoms forever is He,
And He holdeth our crowns in His hands.

Oh, how sweet it will be in that beautiful land,
So free from all sorrow and pain,
With songs on our lips and our harps in our hands,
To meet one another again,
To meet one another again;
With songs on our lips and our harps in our hands,
To meet one another again.