To realms of glo­ry in the skies
I see my Lord re­turn­ing,
While I, a stran­ger in the earth,
For Hea­ven am ev­er yearn­ing.
’Mid toil and sor­row here I roam,
Far from my hea­ven­ly Fa­ther’s home.

Far from my home—how long, dear Lord,
Before my ex­ile end­eth?
But far be­yond the realms of sense
My fer­vent pray­er as­cend­eth;
My pray­er, un­ut­tered, but a groan,
Shall rend the skies and reach Thy throne.

Yet vi­sions of the pro­mised land
By faith my soul ob­tain­eth;
There shall I dwell for­ev­er­more
Where Christ in glo­ry reign­eth;
In man­sions of that bright abode,
The city of the liv­ing God.

In that blest ci­ty is no night,
Nor any pain or weep­ing;
There is my trea­sure, there my heart,
Safe in the Sav­ior’s keep­ing;
In Hea­ven, my ris­en Lord, with Thee
May all my thought and living be.

In glo­ry He shall come again
To earth as He as­cend­ed;
So let me wait and watch and pray,
Until my day is end­ed.
That day, O Lord, is hid from me,
But dai­ly I do wait for Thee.

How bless­èd shall those ser­vants be,
O Lord, at Thy re­turn­ing,
Whose hearts are wait­ing still for Thee,
Whose lamps are trimmed and burn­ing;
Them wilt Thou take to dwell with Thee
In joy and peace eter­nal­ly.