O who would not desire to dwell,
Where tears are never shed,
Where broken hearts are never known,
Nor weary aching head;
Where loved ones ne’er are snatched away,
By death’s relentless hand,
But all is peaceful and serene,
In that bright happy land.
Where verdant fields, and blooming flowers,
In loveliness are spread.
Where life’s fair tree its branches waves,
In triumph o’er our head,
Where sweetest songsters fill the groves,
Their Maker’s praise to sing,
And never-fading flowers abide,
In one perennial Spring.
Where life’s pure river gently glides,
With soft and murmuring lay,
Where darkness never more shall cloud,
The bright eternal day;
Where saints and angels sweetly join,
Their Saviour to adore,
O who would not desire to dwell,
Where tears are shed no more.
There He who shed on Calvary,
His own most precious blood,
And to redeem us from the curse,
Has drunk the wrath of God;
There He shall reign triumphantly,
O’er sin, and death, and hell,
And those who’re purchased by His blood,
With Him shall ever dwell.
– Sarah M. Swan
Orwell, Ohio, Aug. 8th, 1857
