Where the saints in glory,
Bending at the Saviour's feet,
Tell the grand old story.
Sweetly they are singing, . .
Hear the echo ringing, . .
In the land of beauty —
Blessed land of song !
2 Where the cloudless beams of day
Banish care and sadness;
Lo, the reapers enter now,
Bearing sheaves of gladness.
3 Oh, the tender, loving words,
Purest joy revealing !
Soft and low from kindred souls,
On the twilight stealing.
4 Soon together we shall stand
By the crystal river,
There to join the holy throng,
Praising God for ever.