My Lord, in Glory Reigning

My Lord

in glo­ry reign­ing

Upon the glas­sy sea

By an­gel hosts sur­round­ed

Is think­ing still of me.

My heart for joy is danc­ing

My lamp I trim and clear

The Bride­groom bids me en­ter

If I but per­sev­ere.

My Lord a land is rul­ing

The land of pure de­light

Whence hate and might are ban­ished

And all is love and light

What though my lot be low­ly

What though my way be drear;

’Tis mine

’tis mine

that king­dom

If I but per­sev­ere.

My Lord a home is build­ing

A man­sion pass­ing fair

Of pearl and gold all bur­nished

Of jew­els

cost­ly

rare;

A home where no­thing lack­eth

Away with doubt and fear!

’Tis mine

’Tis mine

that man­sion

If I but per­sev­ere.

My Lord a song is teach­ing

The an­gel choirs on high;

They strike their harps and cym­bals

And sound the psal­te­ry.

A song to greet the wan­d’r­er

Who Heav­en’s gate draws near;

’Tis mine

’tis mine

the wel­come

If I but per­sev­ere.