Oh! Where are you going, believer?
Toiling life’s journey through;
Alone on your path so narrow,
Where are you going to?
And why is your face so joyous,
With enemies watching still
The world, the flesh, and the devil,
Evils that poison and kill?

O my journey is onward and upward,
Up where evil can’t come,
Up to the “rest that remaineth,”
Up to a promised home;
Up to the golden city,
Up where the angels stand;
Up where my foes can’t follow
Up to a tearless land.

Going where joy won’t wither,
Going where faith is free,
Going where God has promised
To furnish a home for me;
Leaving a land of darkness,
Sorrow and doubt, and despair,
Where virtue must live as a stranger
But she won’t be a stranger there.

O, your earth hath its clouds and shadows,
Its thunder, and storm, and snow;
But there’s nothing of storm in heaven,
For God hath ordained it so;
And your earth hath its voices of weeping,
Its tears of sorrow and pain,
But there won’t be a storm in heaven,
Nor a sigh where the saints shall reign.

But there shall be glorious glory,
Along with God and the lamb,
Praising his name for ever,
With hymn, and anthem, and psalm,
When sin has received her portion,
And death has no more to do;
Believers, go on and faint not,
‘Tis heaven we’re going to.

P. G. Cullybackey October 1861

Total Page Visits: 847 - Today Page Visits: 1