Oh, what a day that it will be

When I am home with my Father.

Oh, what a day when Him I see,

And sin from me is no longer.

Oh, what a day; we’ll cry aloud.

At least I think that’s what we’ll do.

I can’t be sure and can’t get proud,

Because He’s judge, and king, it’s true.

Oh, Abba I can’t wait to hear

The voices of creation shout.

Filled with awe and reverent fear

Of the Healer who’s never out.

Oh, what a day, praise Him on high,

Who loves as if we were all one.

Oh, what a day when to him fly

The broken, sick; and lost, and done.

Oh, what a day to celebrate.

To welcome poor old sinners home;

To follow through, see what is great;

Accept His grace, and say shalom!

“Seek me,” He says, and this I’ll do.

So don’t cry when I’m on display,

When the time comes, I’ll say to you,

“Yes, praise the Lord—oh, what a day!”