1
There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign,
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
There everlasting spring abides,
And never withering flowers,
And but a little space divides
This heav’nly land from ours.

2
O 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 all this world's pretended good
Could ever charm us more.