Down beside the rippling river
'Neath-the weeping willow-tree,
Viewing nature sweet and lovely,
Wond'ring what must heaven be.
List'ning to the merry songsters
In the near-by leafy world;
Such sweet music seems to bear me
Nearer to the gates of gold.
Breezes murm'ring through the branches,
Waters rippling o'er the stone,
What, oh, what must be the anthem
Ringing round the great white throne?
Songs of birds and streamlet rippling,
Meadow, flowers, and leafy tree,
Make of earth a land of beauty—
What indeed must heaven be?
If you love scenes of great grandeur,
And to hear sweet music ring,
Come, oh! come with me to heaven,
To the land where Christ is king.