Come, ye blessèd of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.
Matthew 25:34
Words: Emily H. Miller, in Song Life, by Philip Phillips (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1872), number 16.
Music: Kawasaki Ira D. Sankey, 1887 (🔊 pdf nwc).
O land of the blessèd! thy shadowless skies
Sometimes in my dreaming I see;
I hear the glad songs that the glorified sing
Steal over eternity’s sea;
Though dark are the shadows that gather between,
I know that thy morning is fair;
I catch but a glimpse of thy glory and light,
And whisper: Would God I were there!
O land of the blessèd! thy hills of delight
Sometimes to my vision unfold;
Thy mansions celestial, thy palaces bright,
Thy bulwarks of jasper and gold;
Dear voices are chanting thy chorus of praise,
Their forms in thy sunlight are fair;
I look from the valley of shadows below,
And whisper: Would God I were there!
Dear home of my Father, thou city of peace,
No shadow of changing can mar;
How glad are the souls that have tasted thy joy!
How blest thine inhabitants are!
When weary of toiling, I think of the day—
Who knows if its dawning be near—
When He who doth love me shall call me away
From all that hath burdened me here.