Oh to be over yonder,*
In that bright land of wonder,
Where the angel-voices mingle, and the angel-harps do ring!
To be free from care and sorrow,
And the anxious, dread to-morrow,
To rest in light and sunshine in the presence of the King!
Oh... to be over yonder!
In that land of wonder,
There to be for ever
In the presence of the King!
Oh to be over yonder!
My longing heart grows fonder
Of looking to the far-off east, to see the day-star bring
Some tidings of the awaking —
Of the cloudless, pure daybreaking:
* By Miss Florence Armstrong. From *' Thb
King in His Beauty," by special permission.
Aspirations after Heaven
My heart is yearning — yearning for the coming of the King.
Oh to be over yonder!
Alas! I sigh and ponder —
Why clings this poor weak heart of mine to any earthly thing?
For each earthly tie must sever,
And pass away for ever:
There's no more separation in the presence of the King!
Oh, when shall I be dwelling
Where angel voices, swelling ing,
In triumphant hallelujahs, make the vaulted heavens ring? —
Where the pearly gates are gleam-
And the Morning Star is beaming?
Oh, when shall I be yonder in the presence of the King?
Ob, when shall I be yonder?
The longing groweth stronger
To join in all the praises the redeemed ones do sing,
Within those heavenly places,
Where the angels veil their faces,
In awe and adoration, in the presence of the King!