Joyfully, joyfully, onward I move,

Bound to the land of bright spirits above;

Angelic choristers, sing as I come—

Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home!

Soon, with my pilgrimage ended below,

Home to the land of bright spirits I go;

Pilgrim and stranger, no more shall I roam:

Joyfully, joyfully, resting at home.

2 Friends fondly cherished, but passed on before;

Waiting, they watch me approaching the shore;

Singing to cheer me through death’s chilling gloom:

Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home.

Sounds of sweet melody full on my ear;

Harps of the blesséd, your voices I hear!

Rings with the harmony heaven’s high dome—

Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home.

3 Death, with thy weapons of war lay me low,

Strike, king of terrors! I fear not the blow;

Jesus hath broken the bars of the tomb!

Joyfully, joyfully, will I go home.

Bright will the morn of eternity dawn;

Death shall be banished, his scepter be gone;

Joyfully, then, shall I witness his doom,

Joyfully, joyfully, safely at home.