The Tree of Life

Our Fath­er has plant­ed a beau­ti­ful tree

Whose ev­er­green branch­es His child­ren be­hold;

They walk ’neath its shade in the ci­ty above

Whose gates are of pearl

And whose streets are of gold.

We may eat of the beau­ti­ful tree of life

That stands in the midst of the ci­ty so fair;

We may eat of its fruit

And be healed with its leaves;

No hun­ger

no sick­ness

No sor­row is there.

Beside the pure riv­er of crys­tal it grows

And yield­eth its fruit ev­ery month

we are told;

Its leaves for the heal­ing of na­tions de­signed

The na­tions who dwell

In that ci­ty of gold.

The hand of the Sav­ior will wipe ev­ery tear

And ban­ish for­ev­er the dark­ness of night;

Sweet an­thems eter­nal that re­gion shall fill

The Lord is its glo­ry

The Lord is its light.