That Blessèd Country

There

in that gold­en ci­ty fair

Stand the blest an­gels in robes of white

Singing for­ev­er their songs of praise

Resting not day or night.

With that great choir in glo­ry

Lord

may we stand and sing

Praises to Thee our Fa­ther

And prais­es to Christ our king.

There

nei­ther sin nor any grief

Ever shall en­ter their song sub­lime;

Heaven’s high arch­es shall ev­er ring

After the end of time.

O

blessèd choir of an­gel hosts;

O

bless­èd coun­try where all is love;

There

wea­ry souls that lang­uish here

Shall rest in Heav­en ab­ove.