Far from my heav'nly home, Far from my Father's breast, Fainting I cry, Blest Spirit, come, And speed me to my rest.

Upon the willows long My harp has silent hung: How should I sing a cheerful song, ill Thou inspire my tongue?

My spirit homeward turns, And fain would thither flee: My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns, When I remember thee.

To Thee, to thee I press, A dark and toilsome road: When shall I pass the wilderness, And reach the saints' abode?

God of my life be near: On Thee my hopes I cast; Oh guide me through the desert here, And bring me home at last.