Sometime the hands,
Grown wea­ry with life’s toil­ing,
Shall fold­ed be across the pulse­less breast,
Sometime the heart,
With care and pain long ach­ing,
Shall be at rest.
Sometime the feet
That climb life’s rug­ged mount­ain,
Shall leave their prints no more along the way,
But pause be­side some cool, life giv­ing fount­ain,
No more to stray.

Sometime the eyes,
Grown dim with cease­less watch­ing,
Amid the mists that shroud our earth­ly way,
Shall close awhile to greet again at wak­ing,
A clear­er day.
Sometime the soul,
Too tired for long­er stay­ing,
Where dirg­es make the me­lo­dy of years,
Shall fall asleep to wake ’mid hea­ven­ly mu­sic,
That knows no tears.

Sometime our pil­grim­age here
Will be end­ed,
Life’s bat­tles fought, and vic­to­ries be won;
Sometime we’ll hear the Sav­ior’s
Welcome plau­dit, Ser­vant, well done!
Sometime, we know this earth­ly
House will crum­ble,
Its beau­ty fade, its mor­tal pow­ers de­cay.
But we’ll abide with­in the heav’n­ly man­sions,
Thro’ end­less day.