The Morning Land

O how light to the soul are its cross­es

And how easy our bur­dens to bear

When we think of that land ov­er Jor­dan

And the joy that will crown us there.

O the bright morn­ing land

The dear morn­ing land

The land where all sor­row is o’er!

We shall sit be­neath the ray

Of a gold­en sum­mer day

Where the sha­dows will re­turn no more.

O how light to the soul are its cross­es

And the con­flicts and tri­als we meet;

We shall soon lay down them ov­er Jor­dan

We shall lay them at Je­sus’ feet.

O how light to the soul are its cross­es

O the mer­cy of Je­sus

our friend!

We shall praise Him for all ov­er Jor­dan

In our beau­ti­ful home be­yond.