THIS world is the place where the Saviour was born
In a stable—no room in the inn—
The place where He suffered, the place where He died
To save us from pleasures of sin.
He has plenty of riches to give to the poor;
The rich, they may come, we are told;
He has riches and pleasures that always endure,
Has ample for young and for old.
He has peace for the drunkard to gladden his heart,
And freely his sins He'll forgive,
If he will come truly confessing his guilt
And on Jesus the Saviour believe.
He has sweet songs of praise for the swearer to sing,
A story his lips to employ,
To tell of God's love to a poor fallen world,
And invite to those mansions of joy.
He has for the miser far more than his gold,
He has riches that never decay;
For all full of zeal He has plenty to do,
Sweet labor by night and by day.
He has many high honors to give unto those
Who seek for His glory to gain,
When He comes to the earth, as His holy word says,
With Him in His kingdom they'll reign.
O! what a rich portion have those who are His,
His place in the glory they'll share,
Himself their blest portion, Himself their great joy,
Himself "all in all" when they're there.
If e'en now by faith—they fresh beauty behold
Though still in this body of clay,
O what will it be, when, in mansions of gold
They behold Him, through heaven's bright day?