The beauty of creation here is extraordinary;
But one clear morning, I'll set out
To climb a promontory;
I'd never dream of leavin', but...
I'm bound for higher glory.
I'll climb as high as I can here,
But heav'n's another story;
So call me saint, or call me fool,
I'm bound for higher glory.
My life is an adventure, full of seeking and of finding;
The truth I'm finding sets me free;
The ties of love are binding;
But God my father calls me home;
He's older, and far wiser;
He lifted me from sinking sand;
He'll lift me far, far higher.
I'm marching to a diff'rent drum;
Cast in a diff'rent story;
The crowning moment's yet to come;
I'm bound for higher glory.
If I am just a pilgrim here,
Then each day is Thanksgiving;
For dying was my way of life,
But now, by grace, I'm living;
I'm looking up to golden spires,
Beyond the transitory...beyond imagination, where
I'm bound for higher glory.
Each one must set out on his own,
But that's not half the story;
We're climbing upward, hand in hand;
We're bound for higher glory!
Words and Music, copyright Dean Elkins,
Frayed Train Music.
the Melody
