1 There is a happy land,
Far, far away.
Where saints in glory stand,
Bright bright as day;
Oh, how they sweetly sing,
"Worthy is our Saviour King,"
Loud let his praises ring,
Praise, praise for aye!
2 Bright, in that happy land,
Beams every eye;
Kept by a Father’s hand,
Love cannot die.
On, then, to glory run;
Be a crown and kingdom won,
And bright, above the sun,
Reign evermore.
3 Come to that happy land,
Come, come away;
Why will you doubting stand?
Why still delay?
Oh, we shall happy be.
When from sin and sorrow free;
Lord, we shall dwell with thee,
Blest evermore.