Cântăre Going Home

Many times in my childhood when we'd traveled so far,

By nightfall how weary I'd grow;

Father's arms would slip 'round me,

So gently he'd say,

"My child, we're going home."



R: Going home, I'm going home,

There's nothing to hold me here;

Well, I've caught a glimpse of that heavenly land,

Praise God, I'm going home.



Now the twilight is fading and the day soon shall end;

I get homesick the farther I roam;

But my Father has led me each step of the way,

And now we're going home.