How often do you think about heaven? Jesus said that He’s gone there to prepare a place for us, and that He’s coming back to take us to be with Him (John 14). The thought of that should absolutely thrill us, especially as we grow older and our health deteriorates, and as we hear more and more about the increasing uncertainty and wickedness in the world around us. What a glorious future lies before us, and which draws nearer every day. Shouldn’t we think of it often, and shouldn’t we be frequently considering it in sermons and Bible studies?
But how often do we think about heaven? We hear that sometimes Christians are ridiculed for being “so heavenly minded, they’re no earthly good.” Of course, that’s never been true, but have we overreacted against that to the point that we feel guilty if we find ourselves deliberately thinking about heaven? Our future is guaranteed by Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, as well as His promise to take us there. And since His Word tells us quite a bit about heaven, surely He wants us to keep that in view to encourage and comfort us as we go through this “veil of tears” before arriving home.
A few years ago, at the opening worship service of the Presbyterian Church in America’s annual General Assembly, commissioners were blessed with a wonderful sermon from the previous year’s Moderator, Ruing Elder Howie Dunahoe. He asked those in attendance to imagine a scenario in which one of us had won a free, all-expense-paid year-long first class travel excursion to all the most magnificent sites around the world. He did a phenomenal job of describing in vivid detail what those sights and experiences would be like, from breath-taking vistas in nature to the most awesome cultural sites in cities on every continent. With a departure date still some time in the future, his point was that surely we would be thinking about that trip with more and more frequency and more and more excitement as the date grew closer. And then he drove it home by asking, “If we would be thinking about that trip every day, why aren’t we thinking every day of something far greater, our approaching transport into heaven?”
The greatest thing about heaven will certainly be seeing our Savior in His risen glory, and being welcomed to come near to hear His loving words, “Well done, good and faithful servant; welcome into the joy of your Master” (Matthew 25:23). In addition to that will be the relief of no longer struggling with sin’s allurement and the embarrassment of past, even though forgiven, sins. But we must remember that, contrary to gnostic thought which regards material things as corrupt, heaven will be this very earth, remade in perfect form, even better than Eden, as Nancy Guthrie has written in her book by that title.
And so, what will be the delights that await us in that heavenly Promised Land, right here on this remade planet? The Bible only tantalizes us with symbolic descriptions of that land, especially in places like Revelation. But it will be unimaginably beautiful and enjoyable. Part of the Bible’s imagery is that of the Israelites being set free from bondage in Egypt, wandering in the wilderness for 40 years, and then entering into “a land flowing with milk and honey” (Deuteronomy 26:9). Only for us, our Promised Land of heaven is not one in which we need to conquer and drive out an enemy. Jesus has already done that!
Since God has promised us that future hope, how should we think of it here on this side of the Jordan River (a figurative representation of death)? In our joyful anticipation of that day, how should we conceive of those delights? Drawing from Scriptural descriptions and figures, many preachers and authors over the centuries have sought to whet our appetites, as it were, by suggesting the sorts of joys and sights and experiences that await us. These include the Puritan Richard Baxter’s, “The Saints Everlasting Rest,” colonial American preacher/theologian Jonathan Edwards’ book, “Heaven; A World of Love,” the famous British “Prince of Preachers” Charles Spurgeon’s “No Tears in Heaven,” and even Christian apologist and professor C. S. Lewis (author of “The Chronicles of Narnia,”) in a book about life in heaven, “The Great Divorce.” By the way, please avoid those ridiculous books by people claiming to have gone to heaven and seen pink unicorns, at least one of which was later admitted by the author to have been a hoax, and one written by a man whose last name is – believe it or not – Malarkey!
One that is highly recommended by many trusted sources in evangelical Christendom is Randy Alcorn’s 2009 book, simply titled “Heaven.” In it, he does a masterful job of using “sanctified imagination” to challenge us to think about heaven as a real physical realm in which we will find incredible joy in discovering what God has prepared for us. He very deliberately confronts many mistaken ideas among Christians. Here’s what one reviewer at 9 Marks had to say about this.
“Heaven” offers a one-stop shop for your questions about heaven and all things related to the afterlife. The central endeavor of the book is to dismantle the misconception that the spiritual and material realms are at odds and that the physical has no place in eternity. Alcorn labels this sort of Gnostic thinking as “Christo-platonism.”
Alcorn provides anecdote after anecdote that sadly demonstrates just how pervasive this false teaching is in the minds of unschooled and mature Christians alike. In response, “Heaven” focuses on the reality of a bodily resurrection and eternal life in the new heavens and new earth. Once you understand that as the driving point, the rest of this 500-plus page book unfolds neatly.
Our hymnals include some wonderful songs about life in our future home. Among them is this hymn by Isaac Watts (1674-1748), “the father of English hymnody” … “There Is a Land of Pure Delight.” The author of more than 600 hymns, Watts’s work is well-represented in every hymnal today, including such well-known songs as “Jesus Shall Reign,” “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” “Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed,” and “Joy to the World.” In an age when English-speaking churches sang psalms almost exclusively, he was one of the primary agents for broadening the church’s worship music to include explicit New Testament content. His first original hymn was “Behold the Glories of the Lamb,” which was inspired by the book of Revelation.
Watts wrote this hymn after his father, a deacon in an independent church, challenged him to write better songs after Watts had complained about the church’s psalms never allowing them to sing the name of Jesus. This greatly disturbed the young believer, for, he wanted to know, “seeing the Scriptures themselves command us to sing and give thanks in the Name of Christ, why in such singing (as psalm singing) should we be forbidden even to mention that Name?” “Why?” he further asked, “when it is permissible to pray and preach in Christ’s Name should we be required to exclude it from our praise?”
Watts was the son of a schoolmaster, born in Southampton. He is said to have shown remarkable precocity in childhood, beginning the study of Latin in his fourth year, and writing respectable verses at the age of seven. At the age of sixteen, he went to London to study in the Academy of the Rev. Thomas Rowe, an Independent minister. In 1698, he became assistant minister of the Independent Church, Berry St., London. In 1702, he became pastor. In 1712, he accepted an invitation to visit Sir Thomas Abney, at his residence of Abney Park, and at Sir Thomas’ pressing request, made it his home for the remainder of his life. It was a residence most favorable for his health, and for the prosecution of his literary labors. He did not retire from ministerial duties, but preached as often as his delicate health would permit.
This hymn, “There Is a Land of Pure Delight,” may be one reason why Watts has sometimes been called “The Seraphic Doctor,” as the hymn speaks of dwelling in that place where “everlasting spring abides.” It is there that the saints of God gather around the throne of the Lamb and sing eternal praises to His name. Watts wrote on almost every subject that touches the believer’s hope and trust in Christ, and as in that first of his hymns, he dwelled on “The Glories of the Lamb,” not only “amidst His Father’s Throne,” but in later compositions on that “wondrous cross” where he invites us to “See from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingling down.”
As a pastor and as a hymn writer, Watts was a very humble man. He denied any selfish motive in writing these hymns. “I made no pretences,” he said, “to the name of a poet or a polite writer … it was not my design to exalt myself to the rank and glory of poets.” He well remembered, as he says, “the dull indifference that sat upon the faces of the whole congregation while the psalm was on their lips,” and it was for that reason that he “became ambitious to be … a helper to the joy of the meanest Christian.” He is also remembered as “The Poet of the Atonement,” for the theme of redemption is present in almost everything he wrote.
If there is a place of “everlasting spring,” and “never-withering flowers,” then it is entered by the child of God through the blood of Christ that has reconciled him to his Father in heaven. But in this particular hymn, it is that entering into the inheritance about which Watts was concerned to speak, for although heaven is “the purchased possession” for the believer in Christ, still “Death like a narrow sea divides, That heavenly land from ours.” The simile that Watts uses is a familiar one and is lifted straight out of the history of the earthly people of God in the Old Testament, crossing over Jordan into the Promised Land.”
Watts was spiritually idealistic about heaven, but also a realist about the sufferings this side of glory. He had been no stranger, either to suffering or sorrow, and as a small, crippled boy he had often stood and gazed upon the prison walls that held his godly father in the utmost misery. As a young man, rather than forsake the “faith of his father” he had refused an offer to study for the Church of England, choosing rather to cast his lot with the persecuted non-conformists. After a pastorate of only ten years (in the chapel of the great John Owen) his health completely broke and for the rest of his life he lived, not only a cripple, but an invalid. Indeed, there was little to tie this dear Isaac Watts to the world, but with what honesty does he relate that “earth-clinging” facet of our old nature that would bind us still and make us “fear to launch away.” All he can do is lift his eyes to that very heaven that he longs to enter, but fears to approach, and pray for such a glimpse of eternity that the gloom of the passage across the river will be dispelled.
“There Is a Land of Pure Delight” can be reasonably connected to Deuteronomy 4:22, “You shall go over and possess that good land.” It was first published in Watts’s 1707 “Hymns and Spiritual Songs.” The song looks forward with joy to receiving an eternal home in heaven. This is a work in which the glories of heaven are suggested rather than described. In addition to Watts’s knowledge of scripture, it is suggested that perhaps the scenery near his early home in Southampton, where the estuary lapped the town walls, may have contributed to his picture of the eternal promised land. Also, his frail health no doubt made Watts think of death, but to his mind it should be sufficient in overcoming man’s natural aversion to death to remember that awaiting the faithful, “There Is a Land of Pure Delight.”
His health began to fail in1703, and Mr. Samuel Price was appointed as his assistant in the ministry. In 1712 a fever shattered his constitution, and Mr. Price was then appointed co-pastor of the congregation which had in the meantime moved to a new chapel in Bury Street. It was at this period that he became the guest of Sir Thomas Abney, under whose roof, and after his death (1722) and that of his widow, he remained for the rest of his suffering life; residing for the longer portion of these thirty-six years principally at the beautiful country seat of Theobalds in Herts, and for the last thirteen years at Stoke Newington. His degree of D.D. was bestowed on him in 1728, unsolicited, by the University of Edinburgh. His infirmities increased on him up to the peaceful close of his sufferings, November 25, 1748. He never married, and was buried in the Puritan resting place at Bunhill Fields. A monument was erected to him in Westminster Abbey.
Stanza 1 points us first to the “delight” of that heavenly home that Jesus is preparing for us. As He promised, we will not only dwell there, but will even reign with Him. As God is light, and there is no darkness in Him (1 John 1:5), so in that place where we will dwell, “Infinite day excludes the night.” Not only that, since “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4), the pleasures of that life will “banish pain.”
There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
Stanza 2 then points us to the “everlasting spring” and its “never-withering flowers.” If the beautiful colors of the pink azaleas and yellow daffodils in our yards bring us joy, who can imagine how many more colors God will have for us in heaven’s never-ending spring, where the flowers will be constantly in bloom. This stanza also directs our attention to the way we will enter that “heavenly land.” The imagery of the Jordan River over which the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land points us to death, which is “like a narrow sea” which “divides this heavenly land from ours.” In “Pilgrim’s Progress,” Christian was fearful of crossing over into the Celestial City. But with help from Hopeful, he passed across that divide, and so shall we. And once we will have entered, what delight will be ours! How reassuring when we come face to face with our deaths.
There everlasting spring abides,
And never-withering flowers;
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
This heavenly land from ours.
Stanza 3 moves on to point us to the “sweet fields beyond the swelling flood” on which our eyes will light. In addition to the fresh kaleidoscope of colorful flowers, Watts imagines the vivid green of new grass in the spring which will greet us. He also remembers the biblical description of that Promised Land, so verdant as to be flowing with milk and honey, and he transfers that to heaven’s fields standing “dressed in living green.” Leaving behind “old Canaan,” once we have crossed over Jordan, we will behold vistas of glorious splendor stretching as far as the eye can see.
Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand dressed in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan rolled between.
Stanza 4 contains the realistic and not surprising hesitancy we might have been tempted to feel, coming to the verge of such an intimidating transition. We “timorous mortals start and shrink to cross this narrow sea.” Since we are mortal, death is inevitable, even for a Christian, and it can be, and sometimes actually is, a frightening thing, even when we know it shouldn’t be. Here is a point at which we certainly need to prepare ourselves to walk by faith in what we know, not by sight in what we feel. In imagery reminiscent again of Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress,” we could find ourselves lingering, “shivering on the brink, and fear to launch away.”
But timorous mortals start and shrink
To cross this narrow sea,
And linger, shivering on the brink,
And fear to launch away.
Stanza 5 points us to what we need to do to be able “to launch away.” What has God given us and promised to us that will enable us to “make our doubts remove?” How can we deal with “those gloomy thoughts that rise?” When we come to those final days of our earthly lives, how will we be able to “see the Canaan that we love with unbeclouded eyes?” Don’t ever sing the hymn and end with this stanza, because it leaves the question unanswered. We MUST go on to the final stanza to get the challenge resolved! Until then, our eyes (and our souls) may remain clouded with those doubts, wondering if it is true that we will make it to the other side.
O could we make our doubts remove,
Those gloomy thoughts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love
With unbeclouded eyes:
Stanza 6 brings us to the solution of those uncertainties. Again, Watts thinks of the Exodus experience of the Old Testament, and particularly that conclusion to the forty-year wandering through the wilderness. Before crossing the Jordan, God told Moses that he would not be permitted to cross over, but that he could ascend Mount Pisgah, and from that lofty vantage point would be able at least to view the landscape of the Promised Land. But what a better position we are in than Moses. God has assured us that we can indeed see that land by faith, by believing His promise, a promise made certain because Jesus has already crossed that Jordan of death before us, and has been raised from the dead so that we would be able to believe His promise in John 14 that He will come again to take us to be with Him. Think of that as you face the death moment of your Jordan. You can do more than Moses. You can not only view that land by faith. You can be sure that Jesus has already crossed over, and He will be the Hopeful in “Pilgrim’s Progress” who will carry you across into “that land of pure delight.” And so “not Jordan’s stream, nor death’s cold flood, should fright us from the shore!”
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!
The hymn is in Common Meter (C.M.), which means that it is possible to sing it to a great number of C.M. tunes (8.6.8.6), as long as the accented syllables of the rhythm match, such as those we use to sing “Amazing Grace,” “O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing,” “The Lord’s My Shepherd, I’ll Not Want,” “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” “God Moves in a Mysterious Way,” “O for a Closer Walk,” and the one used in the “Trinity Hymnal,” “There Is a Green Hill Far Away.” That tune, MEDITATION, was written in 1890 by John Gower. There does not seem to be any particular one that has become a standard accepted by everyone for the text.
One recent one that has found favor in some Anglican circles was written by Charles John Grayston Ives (b. 1948) a British composer, singer, and choral director. Though he composes as Grayston Ives, he prefers to be known as Bill Ives. He was chorister at Ely Cathedral and later studied music at Selwyn College, Cambridge. He began his career as a music teacher, before joining the King’s Singers from 1978 to 1985. From 1991 to 2009 he was the organist and choir director at Magdalen College, Oxford, where he was also a Fellow and tutor in music. He has also had significant involvement in music outside the realm of the church, including with some by Paul McCartney. For his contribution to church music, Ives was made a Fellow of the Royal School of Church Music in 2008. That same year, he was awarded a Doctor of Music degree by the Archbishop of Canterbury. He is also an Emeritus Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford.
As a composer, Ives’s work consists mainly of sacred and secular music for choir, much of it written for the liturgy at Magdalen College chapel. His “Canterbury Te Deum” (1991) for SATB and brass quintet was commissioned for the enthronement of George Carey as Archbishop of Canterbury. He was also commissioned to compose the centerpiece “The Gift of Grace” for the national commemoration service marking the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade in the British Empire, held at Westminster Abbey in 2007, which was attended by Queen Elizabeth II, Prime Minister Tony Blair, and other high-ranking politicians and public figures. Westminster Abbey later commissioned three new arrangements of music by Hubert Parry (“I Was Glad,” “Hear My Words, Ye People,” and the “Coronation Te Deum”) for a recording released in 2015.
Here is a link to the hymn as sung to that newer tune by Grayston Ives at St Marks’ Cathedral in Seattle in 2019.