When saints gather round Thee, dear Savior, above,
And hasten to crown Thee with jewels of love,
Amid those bright mansions of glory so fair—
Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. When those who have labored and struggled to save
Their loved ones from sorrow beyond the dark grave,
Are bringing the treasures they gathered with care—
Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. When life’s dreary billows are spent on the shore
Beyond the dark river, and time is no more,
When bright palms of glory the victors shall bear—
Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. And when in bright garments Thy children shall stand,
A crown on each forehead, a harp in each hand,
And sing of the joys Thou hast gone to prepare—
Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. |
