How shall it be when now the soul, unfettered,
Goes soaring upward in unhindered flight,
Drawn on by love to Him whose light has scattered
The darkness which hid heaven from our sight?
When from the eye of faith the veil of dullness,
As mist before the morning sun doth fall,
And we the Son of God in all His fullness
Behold upon His throne, the Lord of all?
--Zion's Harp #146 vs. 3