1 O land of rest, for thee I sigh;
When will the moment come
When I shall lay my armor by,
And dwell with Christ at home?

2 No tranquil joys on earth I know,
No peaceful, sheltering dome;
This world's a wilderness of woe,
This world is not my home.

3 To Jesus Christ I sought for rest;
He bade me cease to roam,
And fly for succor to his breast,
And he'd conduct me home.

4 When by affliction sharply tried,
Faith tells of scenes to come,
Those endless joys prepared above,
And then I sigh for home.

5 Weary of wandering round and round
This vale of sin and gloom,
I long to leave the unhallowed ground,
And dwell with Christ at home.