And the morn of eternity dawns at last;
Where the weary saint no more shall roam,
But dwell in a happy, peaceful home:
Where the brow with sparkling gems is crowned,
And the waves of bliss are flowing round.
O, that beautiful world! O, that beautiful world!
2 We’re going home, we soon shall be,
Where the sky is clear, and all are free:
Where the victor’s song floats o’er the plains,
And the seraph’s anthems blend with its strains;