My Song

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D. C. · Sep 24, 1903

Arranged and Sung by Chas. P. Whitford.

Tune: Do They Miss Me at Home?

I WILL sing you a song, dear brothers of mine, Of the hopes that live in my breast, Of the city of God with its presence divine, Of the beautiful city of rest, Far away from the sorrows of earth and its care, Where age rolls away like a dream, Where the gateways of crystal shine beauteous and fair, And the walls of pure jasper shall gleam.

The notes of my song leap in joyous refrain; For no cadence of sadness is there, No echo of sorrow is found in its train, It breathes not of sin or despair; I will sing for your pleasure, dear brothers of mine, Of the hopes that live in my breast, Of the city of beauty in splendor sublime, Of the beautiful city of rest.

For that city my heart is now longing; Earth's treasures, how worthless they seem! My affections on these once were centered, But, alas! they have proved but a dream. The glories that once were attractive Are eclipsed by my heavenly home; Its joys soon will welcome Christ's loved ones, And I long for the moment to come.

With joy I shall enter the city, The face of my Saviour behold; And I shall be changed, and be like him, When I stand on the streets of pure gold. For ages on ages I'll praise him, And never grow weary nor old; Love-crowned, I'll abide in his presence When I stand on the streets of pure gold.

Then I'll sing of my heavenly mansion, Yes, I'll spread the glad tidings abroad Of the coming of Jesus my Saviour, To gather the children of God, Of the bright, starry crowns that are waiting For those who his coming will love, And with labor and tears seek to gather Large sheaves for the garner above.