My heart is onward bounding,
Home to the land I love;
Its distant vales and fountains
My wishful passions move.
Fain would my thirsty spirit
Its living freshness breathe,
And wearied-soul find resting
Its hallowed shades beneath.
No soil of nature's evil,
No touch of man's rude hand,
Shall e'er disturb around us
That bright and blissful land.
The charms that woo the senses
Shall be as bright, as fair,
For all, while breathing round us,
Shall tell of Jesus there.
What light, when all its beaming
Shall own Him as the Sun!
What music. when its breathing
Shall bear His name along!
No 'pause, no change of pleasure,
No cloud to dim our view,
The draft that lulls our thirsting,
Shall wake our thirst anew.