But now my soul flutters and cries,
And longs to be soaring away,
From darkness and gloom, to the skies,
The regions of bright, endless day.
4 Dear Saviour, O, let me come home,
And rest on thy bosom in peace;
No more from thy presence to roam—
Then tempests and storms shall all cease.
I’ll sing of thy wonderful ways,
With all of the glorified throng—