We Sing Of A Land Where The Servants Of God

We sing of a land where the servants of God

Shall meet when their journey is o'er,

And clasp their glad hands as they gather at morn,

To labor and sorrow no more.

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We sing of the beautiful mansions of rest

Our Savior has gone to prepare;

And oh, when we think of the bliss they unfold,

In spirit, how oft we are there.

We sing of a land where the leaves never fall,

A land where their bloom never dies;

And Jesus Himself, with His own loving hand,

Will wipe every tear from our eyes.

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We sing of the palms that the conquerors wave,

Who triumphed through Jesus our Lord;

Who fought to the last, and with shouts on their tongues,

Went home to receive their reward.

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We sing of the friends who are waiting today

For us in that region so fair;

But who can describe what a joy it will be

To know that indeed we are there?

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