FAR from these narrow scenes of night
   Unbounded glories rise,
And realms of infinite delight,
    Unknown to mortal eyes.
2  Fair distant land! could mortal eyes
    But half its charms explore,
How would our spirits long to rise,
    And dwell on earth no more.
3  No cloud those blissful regions know,
    For ever bright and fair;
For sin, the source of mortal woe,
    Can never enter there.
4  Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine,
    For Thy bright courts on high:
Then bid our spirits rise, and join
    The chorus of the sky.
Anne Steele, 1717-78