There’s a pure and ho­ly clime where all the saints shall rest,
Just be­yond the swell­ing tide,
Just be­yond the swell­ing tide;
And the ran­somed of the Lord who were by sin op­pressed
Shall with Christ, their Sav­ior, there for­e’er ab­ide.

Refrain

We are march­ing to our home,
To our bright, su­per­nal home,
Where the saints of God shall sweet­ly dwell;
There the ran­somed of the Lord,
Thro’ the ag­es yet to come,
Shall their Savior’s prais­es swell.

We shall meet our loved ones who have laid their ar­mor by,
And have joined the ran­somed throng,
And have joined the ran­somed throng;
And we too shall swell the chorus of re­demp­tion’s song,
While the years of cease­less ag­es roll along.

Refrain

Savior, keep us pure as Thou art in that home so blest,
Where our loved ones ne­ver die,
Where our loved ones ne­ver die;
That when life with us is ov­er we may find sweet rest,
In the home­land of the soul be­yond the sky.

Refrain