High in yonder realms of light,

Dwell the raptured saints above;

Far beyond our feeble sight,

Happy in Immanuel’s love:

Once they knew, like us below,

Pilgrims in this vale of tears,

Torturing pain and heavy woe,

Gloomy doubts, distressing fears.

2 ’Mid the chorus of the skies,

’Mid the 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;

Lulled to rest the aching head,

Soothed the anguish of the mind.

3 All is tranquil and serene,

Calm and undisturbed repose;

There no cloud can intervene,

There no angry tempest blows;

Every tear is wiped away,

Sighs no more shall heave the breast,

Night is lost in endless day,

Sorrow—in eternal rest.