We dwell this side of
Jordan’s stream,
Yet oft there comes a shining beam
Across from yonder shore;
While visions of a holy throng,
And sound of harp and seraph’s song
Seem gently wafted o’er.
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The other side! Its shore so bright
Is radiant with the golden light
Of Zion’s city fair;
And many dear ones gone before,
Already tread the happy shore,
I seem to see them there.
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The other side! ah, there’s the place
Where saints in joy past times retrace,
And think of trials gone;
The vail withdrawn, they clearly see
That all on earth had need to be
To bring them safely home,
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The other side! oh, charming sight!
Upon its banks, arrayed in white,
For me a loved one waits;
Over the stream he calls to me:
“Fear not, I am thy guide to be,
Up to the pearly gates!”
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The other side! no sin is there
To stain the robes the blest ones wear
Made white with Jesus’ blood;
No cry of grief, no voice of woe,
To mar the peace their spirits know,
Their constant peace with God.
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The other side, the other side!
Who would not leave the swelling tide
Of earthly toil and care,
To wake one day when life is past,
Over the stream, at home at last
With all the blest ones there?
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