By sin burdened oft in conscience, with no rest at hand,
How I yearned less bricks to burn, but burdens kept increasing—
Sad, I’d never heard of the beauteous land.
I’m drinking at the fountain that flows unceasingly.
What joy! What riches! Milk and honey, grace as oil abundantly!
What joy! I’m dwelling in God’s Good Land.
Baptized, freed from Egypt, in the wilderness to stand;
Wand’ring oft in circles, sometimes tempted, sometimes strengthened,
I lacked faith to enter the glorious land.
Pow’rs in air He’s vanquished; Satan has no rest or stand!
In the name of Jesus, Hades and its pow’rs retreated;
There is total vict’ry in God’s Good Land!
Glad communion, love most sweet, and hymns on every hand!
No more sorrow, lonely feeling—only rest and pleasure,
Hallelujah! This is the glorious land!