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When I Walk Up The Streets Of Home
When my life here is past and the end comes at last, I must cross o'er the dark rolling sea; Cares for ever will cease in that haven of peace, There my soul shall for ever be free.
When I walk up the streets, Where the fair angels roam; I'll not count time by years, When I walk up the streets of home.
In that home of the soul there are pleasures untold, And the breezes of love ever blow; And perennial springs where the birds ever sing, Not a sigh nor a care shall we know.
When I walk up the streets, Where the fair angels roam; I'll not count time by years, When I walk up the streets of home.
O how sweet it will be when we've crossed o'er the sea, To be safe in the bright heavenly land; while the years roll along I shall sing heaven's song, And shall live with the fair angel band.
When I walk up the streets, Where the fair angels roam; I'll not count time by years, When I walk up the streets of home.