When the cur­tains are lift­ed, oh, what shall I see?
Will my Lord with His an­gels be wait­ing for me?
Will He wel­come my com­ing, and crown me His own,
With the saints of all ag­es, that cir­cle His throne?

Refrain

When the cur­tains are lift­ed, oh what shall I see?
Will my Lord and His an­gels be wait­ing for me?
Be wait­ing, be wait­ing,
Will my Lord and His an­gels be wait­ing for me?

Will the hea­ven­ly ci­ty burst full on my sight?
And the throne of His glo­ry that giv­eth it light?
Will the feet torn and wea­ry reach pave­ments of gold?
And the eyes red with weep­ing the Sav­ior behold?

Refrain

Now the fu­ture is hidden, I see but a pace,
Yet it may be I’m near­ing the end of the race;
It will mat­ter but lit­tle what chang­es may come,
If my Lord with His an­gels shall wel­come me home.

Refrain

When His glo­ri­fied pre­sence shall glad­den my eyes,
I’ll be changed and be like Him, and with Him arise;
And the hands hard with la­bor a vic­tor’s palm raise;
And the lips tuned to sor­row sing an­thems of praise.

When the cur­tains are lift­ed, oh, this shall I see,
That my Lord and His an­gels are wait­ing for me,
Are wait­ing, are wait­ing,
That my Lord and His an­gels are wait­ing for me!