The Brighter Land

There is a bright­er land than this

Where hap­pi­ness doth dwell;

A land of pure and per­fect bliss

Whose joys no tongue can tell.

There dwell the saints in heav’n­ly light

A ho­ly

hap­py throng;

There all is beau­ti­ful and bright

And Je­sus is their song.

By faith I can its beau­ties see

Its splen­dor pass­ing bright;

And oft I’m long­ing there to be

Secure from ev­ery blight;

I’m long­ing

for this vale is drear

And I’m by cares op­pressed;

I’m sigh­ing for that home so dear

Where I may sweet­ly rest.