Or this:

How long, dear Saviour, O how long
Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swift around ye wheels of time
And bring the promised day.

Lo what a glorious sight appears
To our believing eyes
The earth and eas are passed away
And the rolling skies.

From the third heaven where god resides
That holy happy place
The Nnew Jerusalem comes down
Adorned with shining grace.

Attending angels shout for joy,
And the bright angels sing
Mortals behold the sacred seat
Of our descending king.

His own soft hand shall wipe the tears
From every weeping eye
And pains and groans and griefs and fears
And death itself shall die.


Tune: Northfield (Jeremiah Ingalls - I think)
Words: Isaac Watts

No 155 in some Sacred Harp book whose title I failed to transcribe in the days when I was not so careful with attribution.