A home in heav'n! what a joyful thought, As the poor man toils in his weary lot: His heart oppressed and with anguish driv'n, From his home below to his home in Heav'n – From his home below to his home in Heav'n. A home in heav'n! as the suff'rer lies On his bed of pain, and uplifts his eyes To that bright home, what a joy is giv'n, From the blessed thought of his home in Heav'n – From the blessed thought of his home in Heav'n. A home in heav'n! when our pleasures fade, And our wealth and fame in the dust are laid, And strength decays and our health is riv'n, We are happy still with our home in Heav'n – From the blessed thought of his home in Heav'n. A home in heav'n! when the faint heart bleeds, By the Spirit stroke, for its evil deeds. Oh! then what bliss in that heart forgiv'n, Does the hope inspire of its home in Heav'n – From the blessed thought of his home in Heav'n. A home in heav'n! when our friends are fled To the cheerless gloom of the mould'ring dead. We wait in hope on the promise giv'n, That we'll meet up there in our home in Heav'n – That we'll meet up there in our home in Heav'n.