The bright hills of Glory
S. Foster
To the fair shores of Eden,
My soul longs to fly;
And to drink from the fountain
That never runs dry;
Where the angels are singing
The same precious story;
That ever resound
Through the bright hills of glory.
Chorus:
O take me my Saviour,
To join the happy song,
In the bright hills of glory,
Where the angels belong, bright hills of glory
Where angles belong.
Oh! what visions of beauty
Will burst on my sight;
As I enter the mansions
Of heavenly delight;
How the loved ones will greet me
From life's troubled story,
And will welcome me home
To the bright hills of glory!
Pray tell me ye watchmen
Who stand at the gate
How long must I linger
In sorrow--and wait?
When I hear the sweet angels
Rehearsing the story,
And my spirit is longing
For the bright hills of glory!