By the Gate They’ll Meet Us

In the fade­less spring­time

on the heav’n­ly shore

Kindred Spir­its wait us

who have gone be­fore;

There no flow­ers wi­ther

and no plea­sures cloy;

In that land of beau­ty

in that home of joy.

By the gate they’ll meet us

’neath that gold­en sky

Meet us at the por­tal—meet us by and by.

In the mis­ty gloam­ing

death awaits us all;

Silent is his com­ing

sure the Mas­ter’s call;

And the an­gel foot­steps mark the up­ward way

Till the twi­light merg­es in­to heav’n­ly day.

Trusting in the Sav­ior

may we hum­bly wait

’Till the ho­ly an­gels ope the pear­ly gate;

And the lov­ing Fa­ther

from His gra­cious throne

Smiling bids us wel­come to our heav’n­ly home.