A little while, and then the summer day, When I go home; ’Tis lonesome winter now, but ’twill be May, When I go home; Beyond the gloom of moor and fen I see the welcome warm of those who wait for me, When I go home, when I go home. Work ceases not in sunshine or in show’r, Till I go home; But in the stillness of the twilight hour, I dream of home; And when the night wind moans across the wold, I feel no dread of dark, or chill of cold— I dream of home, I dream of home. All will be well, and all be happiness, When I go home; The wanderings all o’er, and loneliness, When I go home; There will be light at eventide for me, The light that never was on land or sea, When I go home, when I go home. I’ll meet the loved ones I have lost awhile, When I go home; And, best of all, I’ll see my Savior smile, When I go home; Oh, what a joy thro’ all eternity, To sing the praise of Him who died for me, When I go home, when I go home.