“This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through, my treasures are laid up, somewhere beyond the blue; the angels beckon me from heaven’s open door, and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”

“Oh Lord, you know, I have no friend like you, if heaven’s not my home, then Lord what will I do. The angels beckon me from heaven’s open door, and I can’t feel at home, in this world anymore. Just over in Gloryland, we’ll live eternally, the saints on every hand, are shouting victory. Their songs of sweetest praise, drift back from heaven’s shore, and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”