Forever with the Lord, Octavius wins low. Forever with the Lord, a man so let it be. Life from the dead is in that word, Tis immortality. Here in the body pen absent from him I roam, yet nightly pitch my moving tent, a days march near home. My father's house on high, home of the soul so near, at times to faiths far seeing eye that golden gates appear. Yet clouds will intervene, and all my prospect flies. Like Noah's dove I flip between rough seasons stormy skies. And the clouds depart, the winds and waters cease, while sweetly over my gladdened heart expands this bow of peace. And darkness as in light hidden alike from view, I sleep, I wake as in his sight who looks all nature through. Forever with the Lord, Father if Tis thy will, the promise of that faithful word even here to me fulfill. Be thou at my right hand, then can I never fail? Aphold thou me, and I shall stand, fight and I must prevail. Knowing as I am known, how shall I love the word, and off repeat before the throne forever with the Lord. Forever with the Lord, a man so let it be, life from the dead is in the word Tis immortality.