'Mid scenes of affliction, with sorrow oppressed
1
'Mid scenes of affliction, with sorrow oppressed,How oft have I sighed for the season of restWhen no more in this wilderness world I shall roam,But find in the bosom of Jesus a home.Home, sweet home;But find in the bosom of Jesus a home.
2
No spot on this earth can give permanent bliss,No home for a stranger and pilgrim is this;But far in yon azure, the star-spangled dome,We'll find in the bosom of Jesus a home.
3
This hope cheers the prospect that's gloomy and drear,And points to the haven of rest that is near;O there, in sweet fields of delight we shall roam,And find in the bosom of Jesus a home.