Is Not This the Land of Beulah?

I am dwelling on a mountain,

Where the golden sunlight gleams

O’er a land whose wondrous beauty

Far exceeds my fondest dreams;

Where the air is pure, ethereal,

Laden with the breath of flowers,

That are blooming by the fountain,

’Neath the amaranthine bowers.

I can see far down the mountain,

Where I wandered weary years,

Often hindered in my journey,

By the ghosts of doubt and fears;

Broken vows and disappointments

Thickly scattered all the way.

Let them there; I’ve found my Saviour;

He has been my strength and stay.

I am drinking at the fountain,

Where I ever would abide;

For I’ve tasted life’s pure river,

And my soul is satisfied.

There’s no thirst for earthly pleasures,

Nor adornments rich and gay,

For I’ve found a richer treasure,

One that fadeth not away.

Oh! The cross has wondrous glory;

Oft I’ve proved this to be true;

When I’m in the way so narrow,

I can see a pathway through;

And how sweetly Jesus whispers,

“Take the cross, thou need’st not fear;

I have tried this way before thee,

And the glory lingers near.”