Delightful Home

There is a coun­try pure and bright

Where plea­sures nev­er die;

A re­gion of un­cloud­ed light

Beyond the star­ry sky.

O hap­py land

O ho­ly land

Land ev­er bright and fair;

When shall I join that ha­ppy band

Who wor­ship ev­er there?

Its skies are not like earth­ly skies

Now clear

then spread with gloom;

The peo­ple of that clime ne’er die

In end­less life they bloom.

All those who reach that land of rest

Shall be from sor­row freed;

They’ll lean up­on the Sav­ior’s breast

On liv­ing pas­tures feed.

Ah

when shall I from time re­move

When reach that land so fair?

When will the gold­en cha­ri­ot come

To take me ov­er there?