When troubled in spirit or heart seems to sink;
When trials press in like the sea;
What rich, priceless comfort I find when I think
I shall soon be at home, Lord, with Thee.
This world’s to my soul but a wilderness wild,
It has lost its attraction for me;
My heart would not wish in it long to abide,
And I’ll soon be at home, Lord, with Thee.
The world with a cruel and murderous hand,
Has nailed Thee to Calvary’s tree,
And with Thee, my Savior, rejected I stand,
But I’ll soon be at home, Lord, with Thee.
Unchanged is the world, it is still just the same,
Rebellious—not bowing the knee;
My theme’s what the world is despising Thy name;
And I’ll soon be at home, Lord, with Thee.
And while in this scene, Thou would’s have me to stay,
In communion with Thee may I be;
But ever my heart shall look on to that day,
When I’ll be at home, Lord, with Thee.
Then, past all the trials, or sorrow, or care,
The heart from all hindrance set free,
Shall joy in Thyself, Lord, forever up there,
When I shall be at home, Lord, with Thee.
My heart then shall worship, my tongue sing
Thy praise, Thine own blessed face I shall see,
Where all shall adore Thee, throughout endless days,
At home, Lord, in glory with Thee.
While here then I’m left in the desert to roam,
My soul ever conscious would be;
I’m only a pilgrim, this world’s not my home,
But I’ll soon be at home, Lord, with Thee.