FAREWELL, vain world, I'm going home,
My Saviour smiles and bids me come;
Bright angels beckon me away,
To sing God's praise in endless day,

2 I am glad that I was born to die;
From grief and wo my soul shall fly;
Bright angels shall convey me home
Away to New Jerusalem.

3 And when to that bright world I fly
And join the mansions in the sky,
O then my happy soul shall tell
My Saviour has done all things well.

4 I hope to meet my brethren there,
Who oft have met with me in prayer;
Our mourning time will soon be o'er,
And we shall live to die no more.

5 I'll praise my God while I have breath;
I hope to praise him after death;
I hope to praise him while I die,
And shout salvation as I fly.

6 We soon shall hear the solemn sound—
“Awake you nations under ground;
Arise and drop your dying shrouds,
And meet King Jesus in the clouds.”

7 Then shall I see my glorious God;
And triumph in his blest abode;
My theme through all eternity
Shall glory, glory, glory, be.