Lord Je­sus Christ, my life, my light,
My strength by day, my trust by night,
On earth I’m but a pass­ing guest
And sore­ly with my sins op­pressed.

Far off I see my fa­ther­land,
Where through Thy blood I hope to stand.
But ere I reach that pa­ra­dise,
A weary way be­fore me lies.

My heart sinks at the jour­ney’s length,
My wast­ed flesh and lit­tle strength;
My soul alone still cries in me:
Lord, take me home, take me to Thee!

Oh, let Thy suf­fer­ings give me pow­er
To meet the last and dark­est hour!
Thy blood re­fresh and com­fort me;
Thy bonds and fet­ters make me free.

Oh, let Thy ho­ly wounds for me
Clefts in the rock for­ev­er be
Where as a dove my soul can hide
And safe from Sa­tan’s rage abide.

And when my spir­it flies away,
Thy dy­ing words shall be my stay.
Thy cross shall be my staff in life,
Thy ho­ly grave my rest from strife.

Lord, in Thy nail prints let me read
That Thou to save me hast de­creed
And grant that in Thine op­ened side
My trou­bled soul may ev­er hide.

Since Thou hast died, the pure, the just,
I take my home­ward way in trust.
The gates of Heav’n, Lord, op­en wide
When here I may no more abide.

And when the last great day shall come
And Thou, our judge, shalt speak the doom,
Let me with joy be­hold the light
And set me then up­on Thy right.

Renew this wast­ed flesh of mine
That like the sun it there may shine
Among the an­gels pure and bright,
Yea, like Thy­self in glo­ri­ous light.

Ah, then I’ll have my heart’s de­sire,
When, sing­ing with the an­gels’ choir,
Among the ran­somed of Thy grace,
Forever I’ll be­hold Thy face!