’Twill not be long, our journey here;Each broken sigh and falling tearWill soon be gone, and all will beA cloudless sky, a waveless sea.
Roll on, dark stream,We dread not thy foam;The pilgrim is longing for home, sweet home.
’Twill not be long; the yearning heartMay feel its every hope depart,And grief be mingled with its song;We’ll meet again; ’twill not be long.
Though sad we mark the closing eye,Of those we loved in days gone by,Yet sweet in death their latest song—We’ll meet again; ’twill not be long.
These checkered wilds, with thorns o’erspread,Through which our way so oft is led—This march of time, with truth so strong,Will end in bliss; ’twill not be long.