1 I sojourn in a vale of tears,
Alas how can I sing!
My harp doth on the willows hand,
Distun'd in ev'ry string.
2 My music is a captive's chains;
Harsh sounds my ears to fill;
How shall I sing sweet Zion's songs,
On this side Zion's hill?
3 Yet lo! I hear the joyful sound,
Surely I'll quickly come!
Each word much sweetness doth distil,
Like a full honey comb.
4 And dost thou come my dearest Lord?
And dost thou surely come?
And dost thou surely quickly come?
Methinks I am at home.
5 Come then my dearest, dearest Lord,
My sweetest surest friend;
Come, for I loath these Kedar tents!
The fiery chariot send.
6 What have I in this barren land?
My Jesus is not here;
Mine eyes will ne'er be blest until
My Jesus doth appear.
7 My Jesus is gone up to heav'n
To get a place for me;
For 'tis his will, that where he is
There should his servants be.
8 Canaan I view from Pisgah's top,
Of Canaan's grapes I taste;
My Lord who sends unto me here,
Will send for me at last.
9 I have a God that changeth not,
Why should I be perplext?
My God that owns me in this world
Will own me in the next.
10 My dearest friends they dwell above;
Them I will go to see:
And all my friends in Christ below
Will soon come after me.