Lo We Are Journeying Home To God

Lo! we are journey’ng home to God,
Bid by the spirit come;
And in the way his children trod,
We seek our Father’s home.

We walk a narrow path, and rough,
And we are tir’d and weak;
And we shall soon have rest enough,
In those bless’d courts we seek.

Nigh to the country we appear,
Stor’d with eternal bliss;
We know we quickly shall be there,
In sight our city is.

Upon Mount Zion’s distant tip,
A Lamb, our eyes behold;
‘Tis Jesus, look ye children up,
He calls us to his fold.

We see him with his raiment red,
As tho’ besmear’d with blood,
As newly slain he stands; he bled,
Us to redeem to God.

About him clad with snowy vests,
Appears a countless throng;
These are his saints, his kings, his priests,
Who sing th’ eternal song.

How blest, how more than happy these,
Who thus their Lord attend;
We, brethren, in their hosts shall praise,
We soon shall there ascend.