We have heard of the angels there, and saints,
With their harps of gold, how they sing;
Of the mount, with the fruitful tree of life,
Of the leaves that healing bring.
The King of that country, He is fair,
He's the joy and light of the place;
In His beauty we shall behold Him there,
And bask in His smiling face.
We'll be there, we'll be there in a little while,
We'll join the pure and the blest;