O Paradise, O Par a-dise, Who doth not crave for rest,

Who would not seek the happy land Where they that loved are blest?

Ten thou-sand times ten thou-sand, In sparkling rai-ment bright,

mies of the ransomed saints Throng up the steeps of light:

"Tis fin-ished! all is fin-ished, Their fight with death and sin:

Life from the dead is in that word, 'Tis im-mor

2 Here, in the body pent,

Absent from Him I roam,

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
A day's march nearer home.

3 My Father's house on high,
Home of my soul, how near,

At times, to faith's foreseeing eye,
Thy golden gates appear!

4 Ah! then my spirit faints

To reach the land I love,

The bright inheritance of saints,
Jerusalem above!

5 "Forever with the Lord!"

Father, if 'tis Thy will,

The promise of that faithful word
E'en here to me fulfill.

6 Be Thou at my right hand,
Then can I never fail;

Uphold Thou me, and I shall stand;
Fight, and I must prevail.

7 So when my latest breath

Shall rend the veil in twain,

By death I shall escape from death,
And life eternal gain.

8 Knowing as I am known,

How shall I love that word,

And oft repeat, before the throne,
"Forever with the Lord!"

J. Montgomery, 1835

Praise God, from whom all blessings Praise the Lamb, our expiation,