My maternal maternal great-grandfather died when I was eight. This was his favorite hymn.
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
Yes, we’ll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river–
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.
On the bosom of the river,
Where the Savior-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
‘Neath the glory of the throne.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we ev’ry burden down’
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown.
At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Savior’s face,
Saints whom death will never sever
Lift their songs of saving grace.
Soon we’ll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease;
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace.