This Is Not My Place of Resting

This is not my place of rest­ing;

Mine’s a ci­ty yet to come;

Onwards to it I am hast­ing—

On to my eter­nal home.

In it all is light and glo­ry

O’er it shines a night­less day;

Every trace of sin’s sad sto­ry—

All the curse has passed away.

There the Lamb

our shep­herd

leads us

By the streams of life along;

On the fresh­est pas­tures feeds us

Turns our sigh­ing in­to song.

Soon we pass this des­ert drea­ry

Soon we bid fare­well to pain;

Never more be sad or wea­ry

Never

nev­er sin again.