Meet Me Over There

Meet Me Over There
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A little child was dying
And called her father near
And, on hias arm reclining
She whispered in his ear:

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I going home to glory,
A golden crown to wear
Oh, meet me, meet me,
Meet me over there

The angels came and took her
The angels God had rent
They bore her up to heaven:
She whispered as she went:
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The father was no Christian
His sins were unforgiven;
He could not, as she begged him,
Rejoin her up in heaven
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He gave his heart to Jesus,
Who took its stains away
And now in Christ believing
The father, too, can say:
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That voice is still appealing,
“Oh, meet me over there
To us it is a summons
For heaven to prepare
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Soon we shall pass life’s portais,
Soon we shall fade and die:
In our departing moments
May we exultant cry:
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