1 When I cross the shining threshold
Of my Father’s open door,
When I hear the white robed chorus
Singing, "Glory evermore
Unto Him who loved and gave Himself
A ransom for all sin";
Then my raptured soul will realize
How much I owe to Him.
Oh! the beauties of that city
Tongue or pen can never tell,
But I here may have a foretaste
Of that land in which all dwell
Who have sought the lowly Master
And have followed where He trod,
And have passed beyond the river,
Evermore to be with God.

2 There all sorrow and all trials
Are forevermore unknown;
From my eyes all tears are banished
By the Lamb upon the throne;
There the streets of that bright city
Are all paved with purest gold,
And my blessèd Lord and Master
Rarest beauties will unfold.
There my loved ones are awaiting
Till I cross the swelling tide,
And with them I share the beauty
Of my Savior crucified;
With this hope that’s set before me,
And a heart from sin set free,
Keep me, Jesus, ever faithful,
Till at last Thou callest me.