Gliding O'er Life's Fitful Waters

Gliding o'er life's fitful waters,

Heavy surges sometimes roll;

And we sigh for yonder haven,

For the homeland of the soul.

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Blessèd homeland, ever fair!

Sin can never enter there;

But the soul, to life awaking,

Everlasting bloom shall wear.

Oft we catch a faint reflection,

Of its bright and vernal hills;

And, though distant, how we hail it!

How each heart with rapture thrills!

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To our Father, and our Savior,

To the Spirit, Three in One,

We shall sing glad songs of triumph

When our harvest work is done.

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'Tis the weary pilgrim's homeland,

Where each throbbing care shall cease,

And our longings and our yearnings,

Like a wave, be hushed to peace.

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