FAR from these narrow scenes of night Unbounded glories rise, And realms of infinite delight, Unknown to mortal eyes.
Fair distant land! could mortal eyes But half its charms explore, How would our spirits long to rise, And dwell on earth no more.
No cloud those blissful regions know, For ever bright and fair; For sin, the source of mortal woe, Can never enter there.
Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine, For Thy bright courts on high: Then bid our spirits rise, and join The chorus of the sky.
Anne Steele, 1717-78