From ev­ery earth­ly plea­sure
From ev­ery tran­si­ent joy,
From ev­ery mor­tal trea­sure
That soon will fade and die:
No long­er these de­sir­ing,
Upward our wish­es tend,
No nob­ler bliss as­pir­ing,
And joys that nev­er end.

From ev­ery pierc­ing sor­row
That heaves our breast to­day,
Or threat­ens us to­mor­row—
Hope turns our eyes away;
On wings of faith as­cend­ing,
We see the land of light;
And feel our sor­rows end­ing
In in­fi­nite de­light.

’Tis true we are but strang­ers
And so­journ­ers here be­low;
And count­less snares and dan­gers
Surround the path we go;
Though pain­ful and dis­tress­ing,
There is a rest ab­ove,
And on­ward we are press­ing
To reach that land of love.