In ever brightening immortality!
Yes! there’s a land where sorrows shall be o’er,
And I shall see the gath’ring cloud no more;
I know the land—I languish to be there:
Come, Death! to that bright world my spirit bear!
There shall be no more crying! Joyful day!
When God’s own hand all tears shall wipe away,
And while eternity’s long ages roll,
Sweet peace shall settle on my ransom’d soul.
I shall not be a wand’ring alien there,