First Line: We speak of the land of the blest,

We speak of the land of the blest,
That country so bright and so fair,
And oft are its glories confessed ;
But what must it be to be there !

To be there ! ... to be there ! . . .
Oh, what must it be to be there ! . . .
To be there 1 ... to be there ! . .
Ohj what must it be to be there !

2 We speak of its pathways of gold,
Its walls decked with jewels so rare,
Its wonders and pleasures untold ;
But what must it be to be there !

3 We speak of its peace and its love,
The robes which the glorified wear,
The songs of the blessed above ;
But what must it be to be there !

4 We speak of its freedom from sin,
From sorrow, temptation, and care,
From trials without and within ;
But what must it be to be there !

5 Do Thou, Lord, in pleasure or woe,
For heaven our spirits prepare ;
Then shortly we also shall know,
And feel what it is to be there !