Here o’er the earth as a stran­ger I roam,
Here is no rest, here is no rest;
Here as a pil­grim I wan­der alone,
Yet I am blest—yet I am blest.
For I look for­ward to that glo­ri­ous day,
When sin and sor­row will van­ish away;
My heart doth leap while I hear Je­sus say,
There, there is rest—there, there is rest.

Here fierce temp­ta­tions be­set me around!
Here is no rest, here is no rest;
Here I am grieved while my foes me sur­round;
Yet I am blest—yet I am blest.
Let them re­vile me and scoff at my name,
Laugh at my weep­ing, en­dea­vor to shame;
I will go for­ward, for this is my theme,
There, there is rest—there, there is rest.

Here are af­flict­ions and tri­als se­vere;
Here is no rest, here is no rest;
Here I must part with the friends I hold dear;
Yet I am blest—yet I am blest.
Sweet is the pro­mise I read in His word,
Blessèd are they who have died in the Lord;
They will be called to re­ceive their re­ward;
Then we shall rest—then we shall rest.

This world of care is a wil­der­ness state,
Here is no rest, here is no rest;
Here I must bear with the world and its hate,
Yet I am blest—yet I am blest.
Soon shall I be from the wick­ed re­leased,
There shall my joy with the Lord be in­creased,
Soon shall the wea­ry for­ev­er be blest,
There, there is rest—there, there is rest.