In Hea­ven all is glad­ness—
Here trou­bles press, and fears;
Here oft­en bowed and sigh­ing,
I eat the bread of tears.
Here joy and sor­row min­gle
For Christ’s be­lov­èd bride;
But ’tis not so up yon­der,
For there doth joy abide.

This world is not my home­land,
In tents I pass my days;
Tow’rd yon­der shore of glo­ry
With yearn­ings eyes I gaze.
While seeks the world its fol­lies,
I view yon ci­ta­del,
Where, free from care and sor­row,
Forever I shall dwell.

Would I ex­change con­di­tions
With one, whose all’s be­low?
Nay, ra­ther I’d be sow­ing
Good seed, tho’ tears may flow.
If at the close of jour­ney
I but in joy may reap,
When world­lings’ joys are ov­er,
And they, too late, must weep.

My hope for life eter­nal
Rests on foun­da­tion sure;
My cross I there­fore glad­ly
Will yet awhile en­dure.
Soon there shall be no sor­row,
No plaints, nor sighs for me,
When, with un­covered vi­sion,
My Sav­ior I shall see.