Ah, is there no, no place on earth
Where weary souls can rest?
Are none who spring from mortal birth
With perfect bliss e'er blest?
Or shall we be forever longing —
Be with wants and wishes filled;
Craving things to earth belonging,
Not the things that God hath willed?
Oh!, how weary, weary, weary,
And how long doth seem the day,
When too sad, and lone and dreary,
Plod we on our toilsome way?
With not one, not one to love us,
How can we of bliss e'er dream?
Of the blissful heaven above us
Can we ever catch a gleam?
Can we long endure such sorrow
Without longing for the day —
Praying God that ere the morrow
We may pass from earth away?
Is there even one, a mortal,
Who content with life's sad store
Would retreat from heaven's blest portal,
And return to earth once more?