My days are gliding swiftly by
And I, a pilgrim stranger
Would not detain them as they fly
Those hours of toil and labor
For, oh! we stand on Jordan’s strand
Our friends are passing over
And, just before, the shining shore
We may almost discover
We’ll gird our loins, my brethren dear
Our distant home discerning
Our waiting Lord has left us word
Let ev’ry lamp be burning
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Should coming days be cold and dark
We need not cease our singing
That perfect rest naught can molest
Where golden harps are ringing
Let sorrow’s rudest tempest blow
Each cord on earth to sever
Our King says, "Come," and there’s our home
Forever, oh! forever
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