1 Joyfully, Joyfully onward I move,
Bound for the land of bright spirits above;
Angelic choristers sing as I come;
Joyfully, joyfully haste to thy home.
Soon, with my pilgrimage ended below,
Home to the land of bright spirits I go:
Pilgrim and stranger no longer I roam,
Joyfully joyfully resting at home.
2 Friends fondly cherish'd have pass'd on before;
Waiting, they watch me approaching the shore,
Singing, to cheer me through death's chilling gloom,--
"Joyfully, joyfully haste to thy home."
Sounds of sweet melody fall on my ear;
Harps of the blessed, your voices I hear!
Rings with the harmony heaven's high dome,--
"Joyfully, joyfully haste to thy home."
3 Death, with thy weapons of war, lay me low,
Strike, king of terrors, I fear not the blow;
Jesus hath broken the bars of the tomb;
Joyfully, joyfully will I go home.
Bright will the morn of eternity dawn;
Death shall be banish'd, his scepter be gone;
Joyfully then shall I witness his doom;
Joyfully, joyfully, safely at home.