1 Midst the lilies blooming yonder
Thou shalt wander,
O my soul, and be at home:
Rise, then, as on eagle pinions--
The dominions
Are above where angels roam.

2 Guide my ship, Thou Firt-born Brother,
To no other
Than that peaceful haven where,
sheltered from all storms forever,
I shall never
Know of sorrow, sin or care.

3 Thou canst fill our mouths with laughter
And hereafter
Make our tongues to sing Thy praise;
Thou canst softly lead us mortals
through death's portals
And above all evils raise.

4 For our sins and grievous errors
All the terrors
Of the cross Thou didst endure:
Death, thy sting for aye has vanished,
Thou art banished,
And I rest from thee secure.