1 Every morning the red sun
Rises warm and bright;
But the evening cometh on,
And the dark, cold night:
There's a bright land far away,
Where is never ending day.

2 Every spring the sweet young flowers
Open fresh and gay;
Till the chilly autumn hours
Wither them away:
There's a land we have not seen
Where the trees are always green.

3 Little birds sing songs of praise
All the summer long;
But in colder, shorter days
They forget their song:
There's a place where Angels sing
Ceaseless praises to their King.

4 Christ our Lord is ever near
Those who follow Him!
But we cannot see Him here,
For our eyes are dim:
There is a most happy place,
Where men always see His Face.

5 Who shall go to that bright land?
All who do the right:
Holy children there shall stand,
In their robes of white,
For that Heaven so bright and blest,
Is our everlasting rest.

Amen.