Matthew_5-14: Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid, I Am The Light Of The World

Pleasant are thy courts above,

In the land of light and love;

Pleasant are Thy courts below,

In this land of sin and woe,

O, my spirit longs and faints

For the converse of Thy saints,

For the brightness of Thy face,

For Thy fulness, God of grace!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy birds that sing and fly

Round Thy altars, O Most High!

Happier souls that find a rest

In a heavenly Father’s breast!

Like the wandering dove that

found

No repose on earth around,

They can to their ark repair,

And enjoy it ever there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy souls! their praises flow

Even in this vale of woe,