I am long­ing for the gath’ring
Of the ran­somed ov­er there;
I am wait­ing for the com­ing
Of the Bride­groom in the air;
I am put­ting on the gar­ments
Which the heav’n­ly bride shall wear;
For the glad home com­ing draw­eth nigh.

I am let­ting go the plea­sures
And the trea­sures world­lings prize;
I am lay­ing up my trea­sures
And am­bi­tions in the skies;
I am set­ting my affect­ions
Where there are no brok­en ties,
For the glad home com­ing draw­eth nigh.

I am hast­en­ing the com­ing
Of the Bride­groom in the air,
I am send­ing forth the Gos­pel
Of the King­dom ev­ery­where;
I am warn­ing saints and si­nners
For the sum­mons to pre­pare,
For the glad home com­ing draw­eth nigh.

Oh! the joy of meet­ing Je­sus
And the loved ones gone be­fore;
Oh! the bliss when death and sor­row,
Sin and sick­ness come no more.
All my heart is turn­ing ev­er
To that ev­er­last­ing shore,
Where the glad home com­ing draw­eth nigh.