1 A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come,
And we shall be with those that rest,
Asleep within the tomb.
A few more suns shall set
O'er these dark hills of time,
And we shall be where suns are not,
A far serener clime.

2 A few more storms shall beat
On this wild, rocky shore,
And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more.
A few more struggles here,
A few more partings o'er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.

3 'Tis but a little while,
And He shall come again,
Who died that we might live, who lives
That we with Him may reign:
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that glad day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away.