A Home in heav'n! what a joyful thought!
As the poor man toils in his weary lot;
His heart oppressed, and with anguish riv'n,
From his home below to a home in heav'n.

A home in heav'n! as the suff'rer lies
On his bed of pain, and uplifts his eyes
To that bright home what a joy is giv'n.
With the blessed thought of a home in heav'n.

A home in heav'n! when our pleasures fade,
And our wealth and fame in the dust are laid,
And our strength decays, and our health is riv'n,
We are happy still with our home in heav'n.

A home in heav'n! when the sinner mourns,
And with contrite heart to the Saviour turns;
O then what bliss in that heart forgiv'n,
Does the hope inspire of a home in heav'n!

A home in heav'n! when our friends are fled
To the cheerless home of the mould'ring dead;
We wait in hope of the promise giv'n,
We will meet again in our home in heav'n #copied