Over there in that sun-bright clime.
Soon the ransomed host, all robed in white,
Will reach those fields of pure delight,
And pluck rich-fruit from the life-tree bowers
Mid a thousand hues of those fadeless flowers,
Over there in that sun-bright clime.
Not far far away is that sun-bright clime,
For now we are nearing the promised time
When the Lord will come for his bride in white,
Then we’ll bid adieu to those scenes of night,