422b Whitney
There is a land, a happy land, Where tears are wiped away From ev'ry eye by God's own hand, And night is turn'd to day. There is a home, a happy home, Where wayworn trav'llers rest, Where toil and languor never come, And ev'ry man is blest. There is a crown, a dazzling crown, Bedeck'd with jewels fair, And priests and kings of high renown, That crown of glory wear. |