High in yonder realms of light,
Dwell the raptur'd saints above,
Far beyond our feeble sight,
Happy in Immanuel's love!
Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
Once they knew, like us below,
Gloomy doubts, distressing fears,
Tort'ring pain and heavy wo.
Oft the big, unbidden tear,
Stealing down the furrow'd cheek,
Told, in eloquence sincere,
Tales of wo they could not speak.
But, these days of weeping o'er,
Past this scene of toil and pain,
They shall feel distress no more,
Never - never weep again!
'Mid the chorus of the skies,
'Mid th'angelic lyres above,
Hark - their songs melodious rise,
Songs of praise to Jesus' love!
Happy Spirits! ye are fled,
Where no grief can entrance find,
Lull'd to rest the aching head,
Sooth'd the anguish of the mind!
All is tranquil and serene,
Calm and undisturb'd repose -
There no cloud can intervene -
There no angry tempest blows.
Ev'ry tear is wip'd away,
Sighs no more shall heave the breast;
Night is lost in endless day -
Sorrow - in eternal rest!
Asahel Nettleton (1783-1843) from Village Hymns #600