When I shall go where my Redeemer is,
In the far City, on the other side,
And at the threshold of his palaces
Shall loose my sandals, ever to abide,
I know my Heavenly King will smiling wait
To give me welcome as I reach the gate.
Oh, joy! oh, bliss! for I shall see his face,
And wear his blessed Name upon my brow--
That Name which stands for pardon, love, and grace--
That Name before which every knee shall bow;
No music half so sweet can ever be,
As that dear Name which he shall write for me!
Crowned with this royal signet, I shall walk
With lifted forehead through the eternal street,
And with a holier mien and gentler talk
Will tell my story to the friends I meet--
Of how the King did stoop his Name to write
Upon my brow in characters of light.
Then, till I go to meet my Father's smile,
I'll keep my forehead smooth from passion's scars--
From angry frowns that trample and defile,
And every sin that desecrates and mars,
That I may lift a face unflushed with shame,
Whereon my Lord may write his holy Name!
