Daily, Daily, Sing The Praises

Daily, daily, sing the praises

Of the city God hath made;

In the beauteous fields of Eden

Its foundation stones are laid.

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O that I had wings of angels,

Here to spread and heavenward fly!

I would seek the gates of Zion,

Far beyond the starry sky.

All the walls of that dear city

Are of bright and burnished gold;

It is matchless in its beauty,

And its treasures are untold.

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In the midst of that dear city

Christ is reigning on His seat,

And the angels swing their censers

In a ring about His feet.

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From the throne a river issues,

Clear as crystal, passing bright,

And it traverses the city

Like a sudden beam of light.

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There the forests ever blossom,

Like our orchards here in May;

There the gardens never wither,

But eternally are gay.

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There the meadows green and dewy

Shine with lilies wondrous fair;

Thousand, thousand, are the colors

Of the waving flowers there.

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There the wind is sweetly fragrant,

And is laden with the song

Of the seraphs, and the elders,

And the great redeemèd throng.

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O I would my ears were open

Here to catch that happy strain!

O I would my eyes some vision

Of that Eden would attain!

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