A lit­tle while, and then the sum­mer day,
When I go home;
’Tis lone­some win­ter now, but ’twill be May,
When I go home;
Beyond the gloom of moor and fen
I see the wel­come warm of those who wait for me,
When I go home, when I go home.

Work ceas­es not in sun­shine or in show’r,
Till I go home;
But in the still­ness of the twi­light hour,
I dream of home;
And when the night wind moans across the wold,
I feel no dread of dark, or chill of cold—
I dream of home, I dream of home.

All will be well, and all be hap­pi­ness,
When I go home;
The wan­der­ings all o’er, and lone­li­ness,
When I go home;
There will be light at ev­en­tide for me,
The light that ne­ver was on land or sea,
When I go home, when I go home.

I’ll meet the loved ones I have lost awhile,
When I go home;
And, best of all, I’ll see my Sav­ior smile,
When I go home;
Oh, what a joy thro’ all eter­ni­ty,
To sing the praise of Him who died for me,
When I go home, when I go home.