High on a hill is the city fair
Where it's my hope to dwell
The King of Kings is the ruler there
And He ruleth all full well
And His Son sits too, on the King's right hand
And the Son's voice rings aloud
To all who live beyond His wall
In the world that's vain and proud
And He calls to all and He calls to me
As He stretches forth His hand
And I long to see His countenance
In the realms of the Promised Land
And the kingdom of His is so far away
And yet is so very near
A kingdom that knows no pain or death
A realm untouched by fear
Far from the cares of this barren land
Where He lives out His father's will,
Far from sin wrought by human hand
Lies the city upon the hill
But near is the gate, to the soul who would see
The Son, and then heed His call
And near is the door, and nearer the key
To eternal life for all
High on a hill may my resting place
Await, where the good abide
Father, I ask that I see Your face
When I'm called to the other side
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem