1 Angels above are singing,
Heavenly harps are ringing,
Voices to me are bringing
Whispers of joy to be;
Oh, to be yonder, up yonder,
Never, no, never to wander,
Ever my heart growing fonder,—
Fonder, dear Master, of Thee.
2 There, where the stars are gleaming,
There, where Thy smile is beaming,
Sweetly my soul is dreaming,
Longing Thy face to see;
Ever Thy power confessing,—
Seeking Thy favor and blessing,
Still is my soul ever pressing,—
Pressing yet nearer to Thee.
3 Nevermore sin nor sighing,
Nevermore grief nor crying,
Nevermore pain nor dying,—
Joy evermore for me;
Praising Thee ever and ever,
Leaving Thee never, no, never,
Dwelling in glory forever,—
Ever, forever with Thee.
Source: The Finest of the Wheat No. 2 #152