My own dear land, where’er my footsteps wander,
Ever to thee my heart still turns again;
To thee my love grows ever fonder, fonder,
Till in its might it is akin to pain.
Ever to thee I’m bound in love and duty;
No dearer land to me in all the earth;
By all sweet ties of home and love and beauty,
To thee I cleave, dear land that gave me birth.

Yet I look on, beyond earth’s habitation,
To where a home of rarer vision gleams,
Fairer than earth’s most wonderful creation
Bathed in the light of Heav’n’s own morning beams.
There we shall meet, from every clime and nation,
There we shall meet in answer to the call,
There we shall meet in joyous consecration,
Sons of one Father, brothers one and all.

My soul, there is a country,
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a wingèd sentry,
All skillful in the wars.

There, above noise and danger,
Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.

He is thy gracious Friend
And (O my soul, awake!)
Did in pure love descend,
To die here for thy sake.

If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.

Leave, then, thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure
But One, who never changes,
Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure.