There is a land of pure delight,
where saints immortal reign.
In finite day excludes the night,
and pleasures banish pain.
Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
stand dressed in living green:
So too the Jews old Canaan stood,
while Jordan roll’d between.
There ever-lasting spring abides,
and ne’er withri’ng flow’rs.
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
this heav’nly land from ours.
But tim’rous mortals start and shring
To cross this narrow sea;
to linger, shiv’ring on the brink
And fear to launch away.
Oh, could we make our doubts remove
Those gloomy thoughts that rise?
And see the Canaan that we love
With unbeclouded eyes!
Could we but climb where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o’er?
Not Jordan’s stream, nor death’s cold flood
Should fright us from the shore.