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Fever shall cease, may you
clasp again the hand of your
loved ones redeemed through the
precious blood of our Dear Saviour
Never more to go out forever -

When we go up the golden streets,
We'll sing the songs of Zion,
So we meet that glorious throng
Who have only gone before.
With joy we there shall greet
Upon the golden street.
Partings are unknown
Upon that better shore.

Chorus: Don't you see, don't you see
The better land's before us.
And through death's dark gloom,
Much brighter lights appear
For there we soon shall meet
Upon the golden street.
We'll tune our harps in Zion
And swell the Jubilee.
For we all march home
To meet our loved ones there.

When you are able to reply I shall be anxious
to learn of Mr. Stanford's sickness.

Sincerely Yours,

W. W. Bentley