On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.
O! the transporting, rapt’rous scene,
That rises to my sight:
Sweet fields arrayed in living green,
And rivers of delight.
There gen’rous fruits that never fail
On trees immortal grow;
There rocks, and hills and brooks and vales,
With milk and honey flow.