Heavenly Crowns FOR Thorny Wreaths, SONG IV

Behold what matchless Love The God of Heaven shows, To those on whom Eternal Life And Glory he bestows! If now God calls them Sons; How glorious shall they be, When being made like Christ, they shall Him in his Glory see?

Their Body frail and vile, That's in Corruption sown, Shall then be raised up again In Incorruption. This Mortal must be cloth'd With Immortality: And then shall Death be swallow'd up In perfect Victory.

It is at present sown A Body Naturall: But shall arise again e're long A Body Spirituall. We now need many helps Our vigour to maintain, As Meat, Drink, Sleep: but shall need none After we rise again.

It's now in weakness sown; But shall be rais'd in power: Sown in Dishonour; but shall rise In Glory at that hour. It shall be wholly freed From all Infirmities, And be most active, hale, and strong When once it doth arise.

Though subject to Reproach Whil'st living; and when dead Must needs be carried out of sight, And quickly buried: Yet Christ shall raise it up With Beauty shining bright, More lovely then the Morning fair, With Heavenly Glory dight.

And if the Body shew So beautiful and faire: How shall the Soul be beautify'd And shine beyond compare? Adorn'd with costly Robes, More precious far then Gold, Of Christ's unspotted Righteousness Most lovely to behold.

When as God's blessed Image That was defac'd by Sin Is perfectly restor'd again And ever dwells therein. When as it shall behold God's Glory shining bright, And be transform'd and glorious made By that most glorious sight.

When like a Glass it shall Receive those glorious Rayes, And back again reflect the same To God's Eternal Praise. When in the Sea of Bliss It constantly shall move: And be for ever ravish'd with The sweetness of his Love.

If Moses face did shine By being forty dayes I'th' Mount: how shall their faces shine That dwell with God alwayes? Moses his Back-parts saw But they shall see his face: And to their joy unspeakable Enjoy the God of Grace.

Oh happy, happy Souls That in God's Bosome rest! That of the Fountain of all Bliss Already are possest! Your Labour's at an end; Your Seed in Tears was sown: But now you reap a joyful Crop And wear a glorious Crown.

We that are still below Have much work yet undone; A War to wage, sharp Thorns to wear, A painful Race to run. Lord help us so to run As that we may obtain: That when this life is at an end, We may in Glory reign.