High in yonder realms of light Dwell the raptured saints above; Far beyond our feeble sight, Happy in Immanu'l's love. Once they knew, like us below, Pilgrims in this vale of tears, Tort'ring pain and heavy woe, Gloomy doubts, distressing fears. Oft the big unbidden tear, Stealing down the furrowed cheek, Told in eloquence sincere, Tales of woe they could not speak; But these days of weeping o'er, Past this scene of toil and pain, They shall feel distress no more, Never, never weep again. Mid the chorus of the skies, Mid th'angelic lyres above, Hark! their songs melod'ous 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!