1 A home in heav’n! What a joyful thought, As the poor man toils in his weary lot: His heart oppressed, and with anguish driv’n From his home below to his home in heav’n. 2 A home in heav’n as the sufferer lies On his bed of pain, and uplifts his eyes To that bright home, what a joy is giv’n, From the blessed thought of his home in heav’n. 3 A home in heav’n when the faint heart bleeds By the Spirit stroke for its evil deeds; Oh! then what bliss in that heart forgiven, Does the hope inspire of its home in heav’n. 4 A home in heav’n when our friends are fled To the cheerless gloom of the mould’ring dead; We wait in hope on the promise given, That we’ll meet up there in our home in heav’n.