Parting soul, the floods await thee,
And the billows round thee roar;
Yet rejoice,–the holy city
Stands on yon celestial shore.

There are crowns, and thrones of glory;
There the living waters glide;
There the just, in shining raiment,
Stand by our Immanuel’s side.

Linger not–the stream is narrow–
Though its cold, dark waters rise;
He, who passed the floods before thee
Guides thy path to yonder skies.