Lord, Thou wilt bring the joyful day!
Beyond earth’s weariness and pains,
Thou hast a mansion far away,
Where for Thine own a rest remains.

No sun there climbs the morning sky,
There ne­ver falls the shade of night,
God and the Lamb, for ever nigh,
O’er all shed ev­er­last­ing light.

The bow of mercy spans the throne,
Emblem of love and goodness there;
While notes to mortals all unknown
Float on the calm, celestial air.

Around the throne bright legions stand,
Redeemed by blood from sin and hell;
And shining forms, an angel band,
The mighty chorus join to swell.

There, Lord, Thy way-worn saints shall find
The bliss for which they longed before;
And holiest sympathies shall bind
Thine own to Thee for ev­er­more.

O Je­sus, bring us to that rest,
Where all the ransomed shall be found,
In Thine eter­nal fullness blest,
While ages roll their cycles round.