|Stanza||Poetry Source by First Line|
How happyís evíry child of grace,
Who feels his sins forgivín;
This world, he cries, is not my place;
I seek a place in heavín.
A country far from mortal sight,
Yet, oh! by faith I see
The land of rest, the saintsí delight,
A heavín prepared for me.
How happy every child of grace, Stanza 1
Oh, what a blessed hope is ours
While here on earth we stay,
We more than taste the heavínly powírs
And antedate that day.
We feel the resurrection near,
Our life in Christ concealed,
And with His glorious presence here
Our earthen vessels filled.
How happy every child of grace, Stanza 7