Sighing for home.

O LAND of rest for thee I sigh! When will the moment come When I shall lay my armor by, And dwell with Christ at home?

No tranquil joys on earth I know, No peaceful shelt'ring dome; This world's a wilderness of woe; This world is not my home. To Jesus Christ I sought for rest; He bade me cease to roam; And fly for succor to his breast, And he'd conduct me home.