812
C. M.
Longing for Heaven.
Sweet land of rest, for thee I sigh,
When will the moment come,
When I shall lay my armor by,
And dwell in peace at home?
Chorus.—O, this is not my home,
O, this is not my home:
This world’s a wilderness of woe,
This world is not my home.
2 No tranquil joy on earth I know,
No peaceful, sheltering dome;
This world’s a wilderness of woe,
This world is not my home.
3 When by affliction sharply tried,
I view the gaping tomb,
Although I dread death’s chilling tide,
Yet still I sigh for home.
4 Weary of wandering round and round
This vale of sin and gloom,
I long to quit the unhallowed ground,
And dwell with Christ at home.