At God’s Right Hand In Countless Numbers,
The Just, Made Perfect, Joyful Stand;
Freed From Whatever On Earth Encumbers,
They’ve Gained The Promised, Heavenly Land.
Our Souls, With Sweet Anticipation,
By Faith These Glorious Realms Descry;
And From Each Kindred, Tongue, And Nation
We Hear Loud Anthems Fill The Sky.
When, O When Shall I Have The Favour
To See The Approach Of Those Blest Days,
When I Shall Welcome My Dear Saviour,
With Solemn Strains, With Joyful Lays?
How Blest Will Then Be My Condition,
When In My Flesh I Christ Shall See!
Though Happy In His Love’s Fruition
Even Here, With Him I Long To Be.
What Heavenly Joy And Consolation
This Hope Affords Unto My Heart,
That Christ, The God Of My Salvation,
Will Me Receive When I Depart;
Then In His Presence I Forever
With The Redeemed Shall Sing His Praise;
O Make Me Ready, Blessed Saviour,
To Leave This World And See Thy Face.
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