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John Brownlie


Ah, that blest abode above,

Who shall pass its portals?

Who at length in peace and love,

Dwell with the immortals?

They who battle for the right

When the day is longest;

They who conquer in the fight,

When the foe is strongest.

Who shall, nearest to the throne,

Have a place appointed?

Who have greatest favour shewn

By the Lord's Anointed?


They who serve Him gladly now,

King and Captain royal;

Ever mindful of their vow,

Noble, steadfast, loyal.

Ah, the bliss of heaven's abode:

Rise, my soul, to win it!

Shrink not from the weary road,

But in faith begin it.

List not to the call of sense,

Earth is vain and lying;

Yonder is thy recompense,

'Mid a bliss undying.

Forward ever, day by day,

Tread the path of duty;

Angels help you in the way

To the realm of beauty.

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