There is singing up in Heav­en
Such as we have never known,
Where the angels sing the praises
Of the Lamb upon the throne,
Their sweet harps are ever tuneful,
And their voices always clear,
O that we might be more like them
While we serve the Master here!

Refrain

Holy, holy, is what the angels sing,
And I expect to help them make
The courts of Heaven ring;
But when I sing redemption’s story,
They will fold their wings,
For angels never felt the joys
That our salvation brings.

But I hear another anthem,
Blending voices clear and strong,
Unto Him who hath redeemed us
And hath bought us, is the song;
We have come through tribulation
To this land so fair and bright,
In the fountain freely flowing
He hath made our garments white.

Refrain

Then the angels stand and listen,
For they cannot join the song,
Like the sound of many waters,
By that happy, blood washed throng,
For they sing about great trials,
Battles fought and victories won,
And they praise their great Redeemer,
Who hath said to them, Well done.

Refrain

So, although I’m not an angel,
Yet I know that over there
I will join a blessèd chorus
That the angels cannot share;
I will sing about my Savior,
Who upon dark Calvary
Freely pardoned my transgressions,
Died to set a sinner free.

Refrain