Old-Line Primitive Baptist Hymn and Tune Book

688 (P.M.) W. C. Tillou

How sweet to reflect on the joys that await me,

In yon blissful region, the haven of rest,

Where glorified spirits in raptures will greet me,

And lead me to mansions prepared for the blessed.

Encircled with light and with glory enshrouded.

My happiness perfect, my mind's eye above,

I'll bathe in the ocean of mercies unbounded,

And range with delight through the Eden of love.

While angelic legions with harps tuned celestial,

Harmoniously join in the concert of praise,

And saints as they flock from the region terrestrial,

In loud hallelujahs their voices shall raise.

Their songs of redemption that echo in heaven,

My soul would respond, "To Immanuel be giv'n

All glory, all honor, all might and dominion,

Who brought us to heaven, the Eden of love."

Then hail, blessed state, hail, ye songsters of glory,

Ye harpers of bliss, soon I'll meet you above,

To join your full choir in rehearsing the story,

Salvation from sorrow through Jesus's love.

Though prisoned on earth, yet by anticipation,

Already my soul tastes the sweets from my Love.

Of joys that await me when freed from this station —

My heart's now in heaven, the Eden of love.