A Prospect of Heaven Makes Death Easy

There is a land of pure delight
    Where saints immortal reign,
Infinite day excludes the night,
    And pleasures banish pain.

There everlasting spring abides,
    And never-withering flowers:
Death like a narrow sea divides
    This heavenly land from ours.

Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
    Stand dressed in living green:
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
    While Jordan rolled between.

But timorous mortals start and shrink
    To cross this narrow sea,
And linger shivering on the bank,
    And fear to launch away.

Oh could we make our doubts remove,
    These gloomy doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love,
    With unbeclouded eyes.

Could we but climb where Moses stood,
    And view the landscape o'er
Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood
    Should fright us from the shore.