Classic Poem

In that better land where the day dies not,
And the flow'rest ne'er decay,
Where the angels pass on their errands bright,
And the ransomed rejoice alway,
There the loving heart and the holy soul
Shall be free to act with but Love's control.

Oh! the bonds of earth shall be sundered there,
And the soul shall freedom know;
And the music-tones of each heart sound forth
With no note of human woe;
There the poor of earth with the crowned shall stand,
And no pride be known in that better land.

There the dwellers are free from the power of sin,
And no tempter's wiles destroy;
There the ransomed dwell in that fold of love,
And rejoice in each other's joy:
And the Lamb of God leads his happy band
In the verdant fields of that better land.

Oh! my heart throbs now with exultant thrill,
As I muse on those joys in store
For the soul that trusts in a Saviour's love,
And will seek to sin no more;
And by faith I'll clasp my Father's hand,
To be led by him toward that better land.

He may lead me down through the vales of grief,
Or along joy's mountain-side;
Yet I'll sing his praise, and I'll do his will,
And I'll trust in the Crucified,
Till he bids me, free from all sin, to stand
On the joyful heights of that better land.