A rest here have I never,
A guest on earth am I,
Heav'n will be mine for ever,
My Fatherland's on high.
Here up and down I'm driven;
In rest eternal there,
God's gift of grace is given
That endeth toil and care.

What hath my whole life ever
From youth been to this hour,
But labour ceasing never,
As long as I have pow'r
To tell of; days of anguish
I've past, and oft the night
In sorrow did I languish
Until the morning light.

And on the ways I've wander'd
What storms have terrified,
It blew, rain'd, lighten'd, thunder'd,
Fear was on every side.
Hate, envy, opposition
Rag'd, undeserv'd by me,
This was the sad condition
I must bear patiently.

So liv'd the honour'd fathers
In whose footsteps we tread,
From whom the saint oft gathers
The wisdom he may need
Of trial what full measure
Had father Abraham,
Ere he attain'd his pleasure,
To his right dwelling came.

How rough too and uneven
The way that Isaac trod,
And Jacob, who had striven
And had prevail'd with God;
What bitter grief and wearing
Felt he, what woe and smart;
In fear and in despairing
Oft sank his fainting heart.

The holy souls and blessed
Went forward on their race,
They chang'd with hearts distressed
Their wonted dwelling-place:
They hither went and thither,
Great crosses bore each day,
Till death came to deliver,
Them in the grave to lay.

In patience am I giving
Myself to just such woe?
Could I be better living
Than such have liv'd below?
Here must we suffer ever,
Here must we upwards strive;
Who fights not well shall never
In joy eternal live.

While on the earth I'm staying,
My life shall thus be spent,
I would not be delaying
For aye in this strange tent.
Along the paths I wander
That lead me to my home,
God boundless comfort yonder
Will give me when I come.

My home is high above me,
Where angel hosts for aye
Praise Him whose heart doth love me,
Who ruleth all each day,
Who aye preserves and beareth
All in His hand of might,
Who orders and prepareth
What good seems in His sight.

For home my tir'd heart yearneth,
I'd gladly thither go,
From earth away it turneth
From all I've here pass'd through.
The longer here I'm staying
I less of pleasure taste,
My spirit's thirst allaying,
The world's an arid waste.

The dwelling is unholy,
The trouble is too great.
Why com'st Thou, Lord, so slowly
To free me from this state?
Come, make a happy ending
Of all my wanderings,
Relief by Thy pow'r sending,
From all my sufferings.

Where I've so long remained
Is not my proper home;
When my life's end is gained,
Then forth from it I'll come,
What here I've needed ever
I'll put it all away;
When soul and body sever,
Me in the grave they'll lay.

Thou, who my Joy art ever,
And of my life the Light,
When death life's thread doth sever,
Bring'st me to heav'n so bright,
To mansions everlasting,
Where I shall ever shine,
E'en as the sun, while tasting
Of pleasures all divine.

There I'll be ever living
Not merely as a guest,
With those who crowns receiving
From Thee are ever bless'd;
I'll celebrate in glory
Thine ev'ry mighty deed,
My portion have before Thee,
From every evil freed.