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O land of rest, for thee I sigh:
When will the moment come
When I shall lay my armor by,
And dwell in peace at home?

No tranquil joy on earth I know,
No peaceful, sheltering dome;
This world’s a wilderness of woe,
This world is not my home.
This world’s a wilderness of woe,
O this is not my home.

Our tears shall all be wiped away
When we have ceased to roam,
And we shall hear our Father say,
Come dwell with me at home.

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