There’s a beau­ti­ful home in the land of the blest,
And its skies are un­cloude­d and clear;
Its hills and its val­leys in sun­shine are dressed,
Such sun­shine as ne­ver glows here.
Happy home, ev­er fair,
In its joys all the ran­somed will share;
Be that home ev­er mine
When I rise from the regions of time.

There a true friend ab­ides, and His love is so pure,
That it casts out our ev­ery fear;
His friend­ship so last­ing, ’twill al­ways en­dure,
Such friend­ship we ca­nnot know here.
Ever true, near­est friend,
His a friend­ship that ne­ver will end;
Be that friend e­ver mine,
When I rise to that fair, sun­ny clime.

That friend­ship is ours, and that love we may claim,
And when­ev­er life’s path­way is drear,
If we look to that Friend—if we call on His name,
Our hearts He will glad­den while here.
Ever true, near­est friend,
His a friend­ship that ne­ver will end;
Be that friend, ev­er mine,
Even now and thro’ all com­ing time.