There is a land, a happy land

Where tears are wiped away

From every eye, by God’s own hand,

And night is turned to day.

2 There is a home, a happy home,

Where way-worn travelers rest,

Where toil and languor never come,

And every mourner’s blest.

3 There is a port, a peaceful port,

A safe and quiet shore,

Where weary mariners resort

And fear the storms no more.

4 There is a crown, a dazzling crown,

Bedecked with jewels fair;

And priests and kings of high renown,

That crown of glory wear.

5 That land be mine, that calm retreat,

That crown of glory bright;

Then I’ll esteem each bitter sweet,

And every burden light.