I love that Holy Scripture,
Where I am truly told
About the heav’nly city,
With walls of precious gold.

About the shining river
That goeth through the street—
The boughs of life above it,
With fruit and blossoms sweet.

This world is sometimes happy,
With pleasant things I love;
But it must be far, far better
To dwell in Heav’n above.

Not that the walls are golden,
The gates are always bright;
Not that the river poureth
Through every street its light.

Not that a pleasant music
From golden harps is stirred,
And every sound is sweeter,
Than ear hath ever heard.

But there shall ne­ver enter
The dark, rude thoughts of sin,
That here are always watching
To come the heart within.

And there we shall not find it
So very hard to be
Gentle and true and patient,
For we the Lord shall see.

And so we shall grow like Him,
All holy things to love;
O! it must be far, far better
To dwell in Heav’n above!