1.My rest is in heaven, my rest is not here.Then why should I tremble when trials are near?Be hush'd, my sad spirit, the worst that can comeBut shortens my journey, and hastens me home.2.It is not for me to be seeking my bliss,Nor building my hopes in a region like this;I look for a city that hands have not piled,I pant for a country by sin undefiled.3.Let doubt, then, and danger, my progress oppose,They only make heaven more sweet at its close;Come joy, or come sorrow, what e'er may befall,An hour with my God will make up for them all.