“For ever with the Lord,”

Amen, so let it be;

Life from the dead is in that word,

’Tis immortality.

2 Here in the body pent,

Absent from him I roam,

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent

A day’s march nearer home.

3 My Father’s bouse on high,

Home of my soul, how near

At times, to faith’s aspiring eye,

Thy golden gates appear!

4 Ah, then my spirit faints,

To reach the land I love,

The bright inheritance of saints,

Jerusalem above.

5 Yet doubts still intervene,

And all my comfort flies;

Like Noah’s dove, I flit between

Rough seas and stormy skies.

6 Anon the clouds depart,

The winds and waters cease;

While sweetly o’er my gladdened heart

Expands the bow of peace.