1 There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign,
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
There everlasting spring abides
And never-withering flowers,
And but a little space divides
This heavenly land from ours.
2 O could we make our doubts remove,
Those gloomy doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love,
With unbeclouded eyes;
Could we but climb where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o'er,
Not all this world's pretended good
Could ever charm us more.
|First Line:||There is a land of pure delight|
|Topic:||Reward of Saints|
|Composer:||George F. Root|
|Meter:||C. M. D|
|Notes:||Alternate tunes: #486 or 686.|
|There is a land of pure delight|