This is not my place of rest­ing;
Mine’s a ci­ty yet to come;
Onwards to it I am hast­ing—
On to my eter­nal home.

In it all is light and glo­ry,
O’er it shines a night­less day;
Every trace of sin’s sad sto­ry—
All the curse has passed away.

There the Lamb, our shep­herd, leads us
By the streams of life along;
On the fresh­est pas­tures feeds us,
Turns our sigh­ing in­to song.

Soon we pass this des­ert drea­ry,
Soon we bid fare­well to pain;
Never more be sad or wea­ry,
Never, nev­er sin again.