The Bright, Immortal Land
By L. D. Santee
O, I LONG to hear the voices
That I heard in days of yore!
And my saddened heart rejoices,
I shall hear them yet once more;
I shall hear them, anthems singing,
I shall clasp angelic hands
Where the sweetest harps are ringing,
In the bright, immortal land. O, the heart would throb with anguish
Could we see them not again!
All the joys of life would languish,
And existence be but pain,
Were our loved ones lost forever,
All our hopes but shifting sand,
Were our dim eyes doomed to never
See the bright, immortal land. But the Lord has died and risen;
And the dead from earth and sea,
All the loved in earth’s dark prison,
From their sleep shall wakened be;
On their brows are no sad traces,
Life by no brief years is spanned;
I shall kiss their shining faces
In the bright, immortal land. Yes, a mighty hand has riven
All the fetters of the tomb,
And within the bliss of heaven
Human flowers for aye shall bloom.
They shall strike their harps of glory,
They shall with the angels stand,
They shall tell redemption’s story,
In the bright, immortal land. We that watch, and weep, and linger
O’er our loved ones in the ground,
We shall clasp their loving fingers
When the wondrous trump shall sound.
O, the friends that Christ shall waken!
O, the great, unnumbered band!
O, the graves that are forsaken
For the bright, immortal land! O, I long to hear the voices
Of the lips that now are still!
But my chastened heart rejoices,
And my soul with rapture thrills;
They shall wake when crowns are given,
They shall with the blood-washed
stand;
We shall dwell with them in heaven,
In the bright, immortal land.