The Shining Shore SHINING SHORE—George Frederick Root The Shining Shore 1 My days are gliding swiftly by, And I, a pilgrim stranger, Would not detain them as they fly, Those hours of toil and danger. Chorus For, oh! we stand on Jordan’s strand; Our friends are passing over; And just before, the shining shore We may almost discover. 2 Should coming days be cold and dark, We need not cease our singing; That perfect rest naught can molest, Where golden harps are ringing. 3 Let sorrow’s rudest