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    Home

    Dolce.
    1
    Oh! Land of rest, for thee I sigh,
    When will the moment come,
    When I shall lay my armor by,
    And dwell with Christ at home.
    MILHA 72.1

    2.
    No tranquil joys on earth I know,
    No peaceful sheltering dome;
    This world’s a wilderness of wo,
    This world is not my home.
    MILHA 72.2

    3.
    To Jesus Christ I sought for rest,
    He bade me cease to roam;
    And fly for succor to his breast,
    And he’d conduct me home.
    MILHA 72.3

    4.
    I would at once have quit this place,
    Where foes in fury roam,
    But ah! my passport was not sealed,
    I could not yet go home.
    MILHA 72.4

    5.
    When by afflictions sharply tried,
    I view the gaping tomb;
    Although I dread death’s chilling flood,
    Yet still I sigh for home.
    MILHA 72.5

    6.
    Weary of wandering round and round,
    This vale of sin and gloom;
    I long to leave th’unhallowed ground,
    And dwell with Christ at home.
    MILHA 72.6

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