O, Land of the Blessèd!

O land of the bless­èd! thy sha­dow­less skies

Sometimes in my dream­ing I see;

I hear the glad songs that the glo­ri­fied sing

Steal ov­er eter­ni­ty’s sea;

Though dark are the sha­dows that ga­ther be­tween

I know that thy morn­ing is fair;

I catch but a glimpse of thy glo­ry and light

And whis­per: Would God I were there!

O land of the bless­èd! thy hills of de­light

Sometimes to my vi­sion un­fold;

Thy man­sions ce­les­ti­al

thy pa­lac­es bright

Thy bul­warks of jas­per and gold;

Dear voic­es are chant­ing thy chor­us of praise

Their forms in thy sun­light are fair;

I look from the val­ley of sha­dows be­low

And whis­per: Would God I were there!

Dear home of my Fa­ther

thou ci­ty of peace

No sha­dow of chang­ing can mar;

How glad are the souls that have tast­ed thy joy!

How blest thine in­ha­bi­tants are!

When wea­ry of toil­ing

I think of the day—

Who knows if its dawn­ing be near—

When He who doth love me shall call me away

From all that hath bur­dened me here.