113. O Land of Rest

O 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.

We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, And we'll be gathered home.

2.

No tranquil joys on earth I know, No peaceful shelt'ring dome: The world's a wilderness of woe; This world is not my home.

We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, And we'll be gathered home.

3.

To Jesus Christ I fled for rest; He bade me cease to roam, And lean for succor on his breast, And he'd conduct me home.

We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, And we'll be gathered home.

4.

When by affliction sharply tried, I view the gaping tomb, Although I dread death's chilling tide, Yet still I sigh for home.

We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, We'll work till Jesus comes, And we'll be gathered home.