We speak of the realms of the blest,
That country so bright and so fair,
And oft are its glories confessed�
But what must it be to be there!
We speak of its pathway of gold�
Its walls decked with jewels so rare,
Its wonders and pleasures untold�
But what must it be to be there!

We speak of its freedom from sin,
From sorrow, temptation and care,
From trials without and within�
But what must it be to be there!
We speak of its service of love,
Of the robes which the glorified wear,
Of the church of the Firstborn above�
But what must it be to be there!

Our mourning is all at an end,
When, raised by the life-giving word,
We see the new city descend,
Adorned as a bride for her Lord;
The city so holy and clean,
No sorrow can breathe in the air;
No gloom of affliction or sin,
No shadow of evil, is there.

Do Thou, midst temptation and woe,
For Heaven my spirit prepare;
And shortly I also shall know
And feel what it is to be there.
Then o�er the bright fields we shall roam,
In glory celestial and fair,
With saints and with angels at home,
And Jesus Himself will be there.