High in yonder realms of light,
Far above these lower skies,
Fair and exquisitely bright,
Heaven’s unfading mansions rise;
Glad within these blest abodes
Dwell the raptured saints above,
Where no anxious care corrodes,
Happy in Emmanuel’s love.
Once the big, unbidden tear,
Stealing down the furrowed cheek,
Told, in eloquence sincere,
Tales of woe they could not speak.
But, these days of weeping o’er,
Passed this scene of toil and pain,
They shall feel distress no more,
Never, never weep again!
‘Mid the chorus of the skies,
‘Mid the angelic lyres above,
Hark! their songs melodious rise,
Songs of praise to Jesus’ love!
Happy spirits! ye are fled,
Where no grief can entrance find,
Lulled to rest the aching head,
Soothed the anguish of the mind.
All is tranquil and serene,
Calm and undisturbed repose;
There no cloud can intervene,
There no angry tempest blows;
Every tear is wiped away,
Sighs no more shall heave the breast,
Night is lost in endless day,
Sorrow in eternal rest.