1 There is a house not made with hands,
Eternal and on high;
And here my spirit waiting stands,
And here my spirit waiting stands,
Till God shall bid it fly.

2 Shortly this prison of my clay
Must be dissolved and fall,
Then, O my soul! with joy obey
Then, O my soul! with joy obey
Thy Heavenly Father's call.

3 'Tis He, by His almighty grace,
That forms thee fit for heaven,
And as an earnest of the place,
And as an earnest of the place,
Has His own Spirit given.

4 We walk by faith of joys to come,
Faith lives upon His word;
But while the body is our home,
But while the body is our home,
We're absent from the Lord.

Amen.