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.