Gliding o'er life's fitful waters, Heavy surges sometimes roll ; And we sigh for yonder haven, For the Home-land of the soul.
Blessed Home-land, ever fair I Sin can never enter there ; But the soul, to life awaking, Everlasting joy shall share.
2. Oft we catch a faint reflection Of its bright and vernal hills ; And though distant, how we hail it ! â How each heart with rapture thrills !
3. To our Father, and our Saviour, To the Spirit, Three in One, We shall sing glad songs of triumph When our harvest work is done.
4. 'Tis the weary pilgrim's Home-land, Where each throbbing care shall cease, And our longings and our yearnings, Like the waves, be hushed to peace.