This spa­cious earth is all the Lord’s,
And men, and worms, and beasts, and birds:
He raised the build­ing on the seas,
And gave it for their dwell­ing place.

But there’s a bright­er world on high,
Thy pa­lace, Lord, above the sky:
Who shall as­cend that blest abode,
And dwell so near his mak­er God?

He that ab­hors and fears to sin,
Whose heart is pure, whose hands are clean,
Him shall the Lord the Sav­ior bless,
And clothe his soul with right­eous­ness.

These are the men, the pi­ous race,
That seek the God of Ja­cob’s face:
These shall enjoy the bliss­ful sight,
And dwell in ev­er­last­ing light.

Rejoice, ye shin­ing worlds on high,
Behold the King of Glo­ry nigh!
Who can this King of Glo­ry be?
The migh­ty Lord, the Sav­ior’s He.

Ye heav’n­ly gates, your leaves dis­play,
To make the Lord the Sav­ior way:
Laden with spoils from earth and hell,
The Con­quer­or comes with God to dwell.

Raised from the dead, He goes be­fore;
He op­ens Heav’n’s eter­nal door,
To give His saints a blest abode,
Near their Re­deem­er and their God.