This is not my place of resting, --
Mine's a city yet to come;
Onward to it I am hasting --
On to my eternal home.

2 In it all is light and glory;
O'er it shines a nightless day;
Every trace of sin's sad story,
All the curse hath passed away;

3 There the Lamb, our Shepherd, leads us
By the streams of life along --
On the freshest pastures feeds us,
Turns our sighing into song.

4 Soon we pass this desert dreary,
Soon we bid farewell to pain;
Never more are sad or weary,
Never, never sin again!

H. Bonar.