64 THE DYING INDIAN'S DREAM Let every tongue The shout prolong! Sound the Redeemer's praise, In loudest, loftiest lays! To Him who bought him With His precious blood; To Him who brought him To this bright Abode Of perfect blessedness, And everlasting peace, " The Bosom of his Father and his God ." VII . " Oh, I shall surely reach that place, Through matchless grace! One moment more below I linger, then I go, From this dark world of woe, Where floods of sorrow overflow, To those bright beauteous Plains, Where Glory everlasting reigns; That Land of heavenly Rest, Among the Pure and Blest, Where Jesus is—where I Shall never sin again or sigh; — In that bright world on high, There are no stains Of sin, and no remains Of sorrow, sighs, and pains; But pure and perfect happiness, And royal robes of heavenly dress, I shall eternally posses; Where holiness and peace Never to cease, But ever to increase,