There’s no dis­ap­point­ment in Hea­ven,
No wea­ri­ness, sor­row or pain;
No hearts that are bleed­ing and brok­en,
No song with a min­or re­frain.
The clouds of our earth­ly ho­ri­zon
Will ne­ver ap­pear in the sky,
For all will be sun­shine and glad­ness,
With ne­ver a sob or a sigh.

Refrain

I’m bound for that beau­ti­ful ci­ty,
My Lord has pre­pared for His own;
Where all the re­deemed of all ag­es
Sing Glo­ry! around the white throne;
Sometimes I grow home­sick for Hea­ven,
And the glo­ries I there shall be­hold;
What a joy that will be when my Sav­ior I see,
In that beau­ti­ful ci­ty of gold.

We’ll ne­ver pay rent for our man­sion,
The tax­es will ne­ver come due,
Our gar­ments will ne­ver grow thread­bare,
But al­ways be fade­less and new,
We’ll ne­ver be hung­ry or thirs­ty,
Nor lang­uish in po­ver­ty there,
For all the rich boun­ties of Hea­ven
His sanc­ti­fied child­ren will share.

Refrain

There’ll ne­ver be crepe on the doork­nob,
No fu­ne­ral train in the sky;
No graves on the hill­sides of glo­ry,
For there we shall ne­ver­more die.
The old will be young there for­ev­er,
Transformed in a mo­ment of time;
Immortal we’ll stand in His like­ness,
The stars and the sun to out­shine.

Refrain