There Shall Be More Joy

The little angels of Heaven

Each wear a long white dress,

And in the tall arcadings

Play ball and play at chess.

With never a soil on their garments

Not a sigh the whole day long,

Not a bitter note in their pleasure,

Not a bitter note in their song.

But they shall know keener pleasure,

And they shall know joy more rare.

Keener, keener pleasure

When you, my dear, come there.

The little angels of Heaven

Each wear a long white gown,

And they lean over the ramparts

Waiting and looking down.