Away with our sor­row and fear!
We soon shall re­co­ver our home,
The ci­ty of saints shall ap­pear,
The day of eter­ni­ty come:
From earth we shall quick­ly re­move,
And mount to our na­tive ab­ode,
The house of our Fa­ther ab­ove,
The pal­ace of an­gels and God.

Our mourn­ing is all at an end,
When, raised by the life-giv­ing Word,
We see the new ci­ty des­cend,
Adorned as a bride for her Lord;
The ci­ty so ho­ly and clean,
No sor­row can breathe in the air;
No gloom of af­flict­ion or sin,
No sha­dow of ev­il is there.

By faith we al­rea­dy be­hold
That love­ly Je­ru­sa­lem here;
Her walls are of jas­per and gold,
As crys­tal her build­ings are clear;
Immovably found­ed in grace,
She stands as she ev­er hath stood,
And bright­ly her build­er dis­plays,
And flames with the glo­ry of God.

No need of the sun in that day,
Which ne­ver is fol­lowed by night,
Where Je­sus’ beau­ties dis­play
A pure and a per­ma­nent light:
The Lamb is their light and their sun,
And lo! by re­flect­ion they shine,
With Je­sus in­ef­fa­bly one,
And bright in ef­ful­gence di­vine!

The saints in His pre­sence re­ceive
Their great and eter­nal re­ward;
In Je­sus, in Hea­ven they live,
They reign in the smile of their Lord:
The flame of an­gel­ic­al love
Is kin­dled at Jes­us’ face;
And all the en­joy­ment ab­ove
Consists in the rap­tur­ous gaze.