Far from these nar­row scenes of night
Unbounded glor­ies rise,
And realms of in­fin­ite delight
Unknown to mor­tal eyes.

Far dist­ant land—could mor­tal eyes
But half its joys ex­plore,
How would our spir­its long to rise,
And dwell on earth no more!

There pain and sick­ness nev­er come,
And grief no more com­plains!
Health tri­umphs in im­mor­tal bloom,
And end­less plea­sure reigns!

From dis­cord free and war’s alarms,
And want and pin­ing care,
Plenty and peace unite their charms,
And smile un­chang­ing there.

There rich va­ri­eties of joy,
Continual feast the mind;
Pleasures which fill, but nev­er cloy,
Immortal and re­fined!

No fact­ious strife, no en­vy there,
The sons of peace mo­lest,
But har­mo­ny and love sin­cere,
Fill ev­ery hap­py breast.

No cloud those bliss­ful re­gions know,
For ev­er bright and fair!
For sin, the source of mor­tal woe,
Can nev­er en­ter there.

There no al­ter­nate night is known,
Nor sun’s faint sick­ly ray;
But glo­ry from the sac­red throne
Spreads ev­er­last­ing day.

That glo­ri­ous Mon­arch there dis­plays
His beams of won­drous grace;
His hap­py sub­jects sing His praise,
And bow be­fore His face.

O may the heav­en­ly pros­pect fire
Our hearts with ar­dent love,
Till wings of faith and strong de­sire
Bear ev­ery thought ab­ove.

Prepare us, Lord, by grace di­vine,
For Thy bright courts on high;
Then bid our spir­its rise and join
The chor­us of the sky.