Somewhere in the realms supernal
Is a home prepared for me,
Where my joys shall be eternal,
And my spirit ever free;
Mortal vision helps not here,
God conceals it from my sight,
By effulgent beams of light;
Oh that He would bring it near!
But I hear a voice say, softly,
“Be content to leave it so,
For God's thoughts are far too lofty
For a man like thee to know;
Human spirits must be free
From their tenements of clay,
Ere they bear that full-orbed day,
Bide thy time and thou shalt see.”
I cannot draw back the curtain
That conceals the glory land,
Yet my hope is sure and certain,
For the tracings of God's hand
On the outside do appear,
Like the cherubim of old,
Wrought in needle-work and gold,
Bringing all the glory near.
He who made the lovely flowers
Which adorn both shrub and tree,
Climbing vine, and shady bowers,
In this beauty speaks to me:
‘ Tis the curtain of His tent,
Hiding much, yet much reveals,
Type of the Elysian fields;
Glory streams thro’ woof and rent.