Daily, Daily, Sing the Praises

O that I had wings of angels Sabine Baring-Gould Henri F. Hemy Daily, daily, sing the praises Of the city God hath made; In the beauteous fields of Eden Its foundation stones are laid.

Refrain O that I had wings of angels, Here to spread and heavenward fly! I would seek the gates of Zion, Far beyond the starry sky.

All the walls of that dear city Are of bright and burnished gold; It is matchless in its beauty, And its treasures are untold.

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In the midst of that dear city Christ is reigning on His seat, And the angels swing their censers In a ring about His feet.

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From the throne a river issues, Clear as crystal, passing bright, And it traverses the city Like a sudden beam of light.

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There the forests ever blossom, Like our orchards here in May; There the gardens never wither, But eternally are gay.

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There the meadows green and dewy Shine with lilies wondrous fair; Thousand, thousand, are the colors Of the waving flowers there.

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There the wind is sweetly fragrant, And is laden with the song Of the seraphs, and the elders, And the great redeemed throng.

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O I would my ears were open Here to catch that happy strain! O I would my eyes some vision Of that Eden would attain!

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