There is a blessèd home,
Beyond this land of woe,
Where trials ne­ver come,
Nor tears of sorrow flow;
Where faith is lost in sight,
And patient hope is crowned,
And ev­er­last­ing light
Its glo­ry throws around.

There is a land of peace,
Good angels know it well;
Glad songs that ne­ver cease
Within its portals swell;
Around its glo­ri­ous throne
Ten thousand saints adore
Christ, with the Fa­ther One,
And Spi­rit, ev­er­more.

O joy all joys beyond,
To see the Lamb who died,
And count each sacred wound
In hands, and feet, and side;
To give to Him the praise
Of every triumph won,
And sing through endless days
The great things He hath done.

Look up, ye saints of God,
Nor fear to tread below
The path your Sav­ior trod
Of daily toil and woe;
Wait but a little while
In uncomplaining love
His own most gracious smile
Shall welcome you above.