Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Psalm 55:6
On joyful wings our raptured souls
Would mount and spread their flight,
And from Mount Pisgah’s top behold
The land of pure delight.
Above the clouds, above the stars,
That heav’nly region fair,
Where He, our Lord and Savior, dwells,
Our home, our home is there.
Sweet visions oft His love reveals,
Of that divine abode;
And with His kind, protecting hand,
He leads us on the road.
O blessèd hope that bears us up,
And stills each throb of care!
The night will pass, the morn will come,
And we shall soon be there.