1 Far from my native land,
In solitude I roam;
Nor do I find a resting place
That I can call my own.
2 Out on life’s troubled sea,
Dark waters round me roll;
Increasing fears that sometimes rise,
Bring sorrow to my soul.
3 Is there no other land?
No other scenes of joy?
No rock on which my feet shall stand
And find more sure employ?
4 Yes, there’s another land,
Where sorrows are unknown;
And on its shores I soon shall stand,
And Heav’n shall be my home.
5 Cease, cease, my troubled soul;
This storm will soon be past
And, when my weary toils are o’er,
I’ll wear a crown at last.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #13703