Far from my native land,
In solitude I roam;
Nor do I find a resting place
That I can call my own.

Out on life’s troubled sea,
Dark waters round me roll;
Increasing fears that sometimes rise,
Bring sorrow to my soul.

Is there no other land?
No other scenes of joy?
No rock on which my feet shall stand
And find more sure employ?

Yes, there’s another land,
Where sorrows are unknown;
And on its shores I soon shall stand,
And Heav’n shall be my home.

Cease, cease, my troubled soul;
This storm will soon be past
And, when my weary toils are o’er,
I’ll wear a crown at last.