Attributed to Albert Edward Brumley
This world is not my home, I'm just a passing through,
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue;
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door,
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.
They're all expecting me, and that's one thing I know.
My Savior pardoned me and now I onward go;
I know He'll take me through though I am weak and poor,
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.
Just up in gloryland we'll live eternally.
The saints on every hand are shouting victory.
Their songs of sweetest praise drift back from Heaven's shore.
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.
Chorus:
O Lord, you know I have no friend like you,
If Heaven's not my home, then Lord what will I do?
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door,
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.
This is one of my very favorite hymns. I often sing this one at bedtime to the Littles. As wonderful as moments on this earth can be, thinking of heaven sure is a comfort for me!
Matthew 6:19-20 - "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal." (ESV)
No comments:
Post a Comment