Old-Line Primitive Baptist Hymn and Tune Book

723 (C.M.) Elizabeth Mills

O Land of rest, for thee I sigh;

When will the moment come,

When I shall lay my armour by,

And dwell with Christ at home?

And dwell with Christ at home,

And dwell with Christ at home;

When I shall lay my armour by,

And dwell with Christ at home?

No tranquil joys on earth I know,

No peaceful shelt'ring dome;

This world's a wilderness of woe;

This world is not my home.

This world is not, &c.

To Jesus Christ I sought for rest;

He bade me cease to roam,

And fly for succor to His breast,

And He'd conduct me home.

And He'd conduct, &c.

I should at once have quit the field,

Where foes and fury roam;

But, ah! my passport was not sealed;

I could not yet go home.

I could not yet, &c.

When by affliction sharply tried,

I view the gaping tomb,

Although I dread death's chilling tide,

Yet still I sigh for home.

Yet still I sigh, &c.

Weary of wand'ring round and round

This vale of sin and gloom,

I long to leave th'unhallowed ground,

And dwell with Christ at home.

And dwell with Christ, &c.