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 with'ring flow'rs,
And but a little space divides
This heav'nly land from ours.

2. Pure is the land the saints espy,
And all the region peace;
No wanton lips nor envious eye
Can see or taste the bliss.
Those holy gates forever bar
Pollution, sin, and shame;
None shall obtain admittance there
But foll'wers of the Lamb.

3. O could we make our doubts remove
Those gloomy doubts 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.