Have you heard of that sun-bright clime?
There’s a city fair, ’tis the saint’s sweet home,
There they ne’er shall know night’s gathering gloom,
With its gates of pearl, and its streets of gold,
It shines in the glory of God untold,
Over there in that sun-bright clime.
A river of water gushes there
Midst flowers of beauty strangely rare,
And rich-plumed songsters flit through the bowers
Of the tree of life on those golden shores,