Dwell the raptured saints above,
Far beyond our feeble sight
Happy in Immanuel’s love.
Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
Once they knew like us below,
Gloomy doubts, disturbing fears,
Torturing pain and heavy woe.
Days of weeping now are o’er,
Past those scenes of toil and pain;
They will feel distress no more,