’Tis good, Lord, to be here,
Thy glo­ry fills the night;
Thy face and gar­ments, like the sun,
Shine with un­bor­rowed light.

’Tis good, Lord, to be here,
Thy beau­ty to be­hold
Where Mos­es and Eli­jah stand,
Thy mes­sen­gers of old.

Fulfiller of the past,
Promise of things to be,
We hail Thy bo­dy glo­ri­fied
And our re­demp­tion see.

Before we taste of death,
We see Thy king­dom come;
We fain would hold the vi­sion bright
And make this hill our home.

’Tis good, Lord, to be here.
Yet we may not re­main;
But since Thou bidst us leave the mount,
Come with us to the plain.