Thou’rt gone up above to the mansions of glory,
Thy Savior’s loved voice has welcomed thee in;
No more the broad shadows that darkened earth’s story,
Shall sadden thy spirit with sorrow or sin.
Thou’rt gone up to swell the glad song of salvation,
And praise to Jehovah, whose nature is love:
Ah! many a friend hast thou met, and relation,
Inhabitants long of the regions above.
No longer thy harp is unstrung on the willow:
Earth passed — heaven gained — never more wilt thou weep;
Into silvery riplets hath glided each billow,
The “Arms everlasting” our loved one now keep.
Thine eyes are beholding the King in His beauty,
Thine ears are attuned to new songs of renown,
Thy one great delight is His will and His glory;
He carried thy sorrows, thou wearest His crown.