Cântăre Happy Home

There’s a crown laid up in glory,

There’s a robe for all to wear,

And we never need be sorry

That we did life’s troubles share;

For our crown will shine the brighter

For the battles we have won,

And our robes will be the whiter

When our trav’ling days are done.



Happy home, a happy home,

Nevermore from Christ to roam!

When our fighting here is over,

And our vict’ries all are won,

There’s a mansion up in glory,

When our trav’ling days are done.



There’s a golden harp in glory,

There’s a welcome for the true;

There’s a rest for all the weary,

There’s a victor’s palm for you;

Oh, we’ll praise the Lord forever

When we stand before His throne,

And our joys will end—no never!

When our trav’ling days are done.



There will be no room for sadness,

There will be no sorrow there,

For unceasing songs of gladness

Will forever fill the air;

There will be no farewell meetings

In that land where God’s the Sun;

But one long eternal greeting

When our trav’ling days are done.