I so­journ in a vale of tears,
Alas, how can I sing?
My harp doth on the wil­lows hang,
Distuned in ev­ery string.
My mu­sic is a cap­tive’s chain,
Harsh sounds my ears do fill;
How shall I sing sweet Sion’s song
On this side Si­on’s hill?

Yet lo! I hear a joy­ful sound,
Surely I quick­ly come;
Each word much swee­tness doth dis­till
Like swell­ing ho­ney­comb.
And dost Thou come, my dear­est Lord?
And dost Thou sure­ly come?
And dost Thou sure­ly, quick­ly come?
Methinks I am at home.

Come then, my dear­est, dear­est Lord,
My sweet­est, tru­est friend;
Come, for I loathe these Ke­dar tents,
Thy fie­ry char­iots send.
What have I here? My thoughts and joys
Are all packed up and gone;
My ea­ger soul would fol­low them
To Thine eter­nal throne.

What have I in this bar­ren land?
My Je­sus is not here;
Mine eyes will ne’er be blest un­til
My Je­sus doth ap­pear.
My Je­sus is gone up to Heav’n,
To make a place for me;
For ’tis His will that where He is
There should His ser­vants be.

I Ca­naan view from Pis­gah’s top,
Of Ca­naan’s grapes I taste;
My Lord, who sends un­to me here,
Will send for me at last.
I have a God who chang­eth not,
Why should I be per­plexed?
The God who owns me in this world,
Will own me in the next.

Go fearl­ess then, my soul, with God
Into ano­ther room;
Thou who hast walk­èd with Him here
Go see thy God at home.
View death with a be­liev­ing eye,
It hath an an­gel’s face;
And this kind an­gel will es­cort
Thee to an an­gel’s place.

The grave is but a cru­ci­ble
Unto be­liev­ing eyes;
For there the flesh shall lose its dross,
And like the sun shall rise.
The world, which I have known too well
Hath mocked me with its lies;
How glad­ly would I leave be­hind
Its vex­ing va­ni­ties!

My dear­est friends now dwell above,
Them will I go to see;
And all my friends in Christ be­low
Will soon come af­ter me.
Fear not the trump’s earth-rend­ing sound;
Dread not the Day of Doom,
For He that is to be thy judge,
Thy Sav­ior is become.

Blest be my God that gives me light,
Who in the dark did grope;
Blest be my God, the God of love,
Who cause­th me to hope.
Here is Word’s sig­net, com­fort’s staff,
And here is grace’s chain;
By these Thy pledg­es, Lord, I know
My hopes are not in vain.