Chelsea 36

His own soft hand shall wipe the tears
From ev'ry weeping eye,
And pains and groans and griefs and fears
And death itself shall die.

Chorus:
Oh, the transporting rapt'rous scene
That rises to my sight;
Sweet fields arrayed in living green
And rivers of delight.

No chilling wind nor pois'nous breath
Can reach that healthful shore,
Sickness and sorrow, pain and death
Are felt and feared no more.

Northern Harmony Tunebook Index