I Love That Holy Scripture

I love that Ho­ly Scrip­ture

Where I am tru­ly told

About the heav’n­ly ci­ty

With walls of pre­cious gold.

About the shin­ing river

That go­eth through the street—

The boughs of life above it

With fruit and blos­soms sweet.

This world is some­times hap­py

With plea­sant things I love;

But it must be far

far bet­ter

To dwell in Heav’n above.

Not that the walls are gold­en

The gates are al­ways bright;

Not that the riv­er pour­eth

Through ev­ery street its light.

Not that a plea­sant mu­sic

From gold­en harps is stirred

And ev­ery sound is sweet­er

Than ear hath ev­er heard.

But there shall nev­er en­ter

The dark

rude thoughts of sin

That here are al­ways watch­ing

To come the heart with­in.

And there we shall not find it

So ve­ry hard to be

Gentle and true and pa­tient

For we the Lord shall see.

And so we shall grow like Him

All ho­ly things to love;

O! it must be far

far bet­ter

To dwell in Heav’n above!