Farewell, O fleet­ing world, fare­well!
I bid thy plea­sures all adieu;
My home is where the an­gels dwell,
A rest un­seen by mor­tal view.
A place where ran­somed spir­its live,
Unburdened of this earth­ly clod;
A man­sion which the Lord will give
To all who love His faith­ful word.

Farewell, ye scenes of toil and strife,
Since Je­sus calls me, I must go;
I go to seek that hap­pi­er life
Which none but true be­liev­ers know;
Hinder me not, I may not stay
Amid the cares and ills of time;
My Sav­ior calls, I must away—
My home is in a pu­er clime.

O who will go my rest to share,
That bliss im­mor­tal souls shall prove
To taste the plea­sures flow­ing there,
From foun­tains of ex­haust­less love;
My long­ing heart leaps at the thought
Of joys that wait me on that shore;
That trea­sure which my Sav­ior bought,
It shall be mine for­ev­er­more.