The rain has lately passed, the morning air is fresh, In puddles mirrors heaven's vast, I gaze and seem to see, confessed, A land where none of us have blessed…
This land the Heavenly Father made For those who wait upon His name, A wondrous, marvelous parade, A palace glorious, aflame With majesty and glory's claim.
Instead of sun—the Lord's face shines, No sickness there, no endless night, No winter's frost—eternal lines Of warmth, and oh, how fair the sight, Surpassing beauty, burning bright!
No eye hath seen such beauty vast, No ear hath heard such songs above! My dreams toward those vistas cast, Yet know so little of that love— The glory gleaming high thereof…
The clouds drift slowly through the sky… And I stand breathless, holding still… Lord, help me in this world's great lie To live a life that doth fulfill Thy heavenly call and holy will.
