Oh, the mu­sic roll­ing on­ward,
Through the bound­less re­gions bright,
Where the King in all His beau­ty
Is the glo­ry and the light!
Where the sun­shine of His pre­sence
Every wave of sor­row stills,
And the bells of joy are ring­ing
On the ev­er­last­ing hills.

Oh, the mu­sic roll­ing on­ward
Like a migh­ty ocean tide—
Oft I seem to hear its ech­oes,
While to earth they soft­ly glide!
And there comes to me a vi­sion
That my soul with rap­ture thrills,
For I stand by faith up­lift­ed
On the ev­er­last­ing hills.

When I wake amid the splen­dor
That I see but dim­ly now,
And be­hold the crown of jew­els
That adorns my Sav­ior’s brow,
Where eter­nal spring abid­eth,
And the sky no dark­ness fills—
How my grate­ful heart shall praise Him
On the ev­er­last­ing hills.