It is pure stainless white, free from wrinkle and spot.
The streets that he walks in are pavëd with gold,
And yet it’s transparent as glass we are told;
The pure river of water of life is in view,
And for healing the nations, the tree of life too.
There’s no need of a candle or sun there, for night
Is excluded forever—the Lord God is their light.
But here we will stop, for no tongue can declare,
No heart may conceive what the Saints enjoy there.
And these joys may be ours—oh! how blissful the thought,