Oh to Be Over Yonder

Oh to be ov­er yon­der

In that bright land of won­der

Where the an­gel voices min­gle

and

The ang­el harps do ring!

To be free from care and sor­row

And the anx­ious dread to­mor­row

To rest in light and sun­shine in

The pre­sence of the King!

Oh to be ov­er yon­der!

In that land of wonder

There to be for­ev­er

In the pre­sence of the King!

Oh to be ov­er yonder!

My long­ing heart grows fon­der

Of look­ing to the far off east

To see the day­star bring

Some tid­ings of th’awak­ing—

Of the cloud­less

pure day break­ing

My heart is yearn­ing—yearn­ing for

The com­ing of the King!

Oh to be ov­er yon­der!

Alas! I sigh and pon­der—

Why clings this poor

weak heart of mine

To any earth­ly thing?

For each earth­ly tie must sev­er

And pass away for­ev­er:

There’s no more se­pa­ra­tion in

The pre­sence of the King!

Oh

when shall I be dwell­ing

Where an­gel voices

swell­ing

In tri­um­phant hal­le­lu­jahs

make

The vault­ed heav­ens ring—

Where the pear­ly gates are gleam­ing

And the Morn­ing Star is beam­ing?

O when shall I be yon­der in

The pre­sence of the King?

Oh

when shall I be yon­der?

The long­ing grow­eth strong­er

To join in all the prais­es the

Redeemèd ones do sing.

Within those heav­en­ly places

Where the an­gels veil their faces

In awe and ad­or­ation

in

The pre­sence of the King!

Oh

I shall soon be yon­der

And lon­ely as I wan­der

Yearning for the wel­come su­mmer—

Longing for the bird’s fleet wing

The mid­night may be drea­ry

And the heart be worn and wea­ry

But there’s no more sha­dow yon­der

In the pre­sence of the King.