Sweet land of rest, for thee I sigh,

When will the moment come,

When I shall lay my armor by,

And dwell in peace at home?

Chorus.—O, this is not my home,

O, this is not my home:

This world’s a wilderness of woe,

This world is not my home.

2 No tranquil joy on earth I know,

No peaceful, sheltering dome;

This world’s a wilderness of woe,

This world is not my home.

3 When by affliction sharply tried,

I view the gaping tomb,

Although I dread death’s chilling tide,

Yet still I sigh for home.

4 Weary of wandering round and round

This vale of sin and gloom,

I long to quit the unhallowed ground,

And dwell with Christ at home.