I am footsore and very weary,But I travel to meet a Friend:The way is long and dreary,But I know that it soon must end.
He is travelling fast like the whirlwind,And though I creep slowly on,We are drawing nearer,nearer,And the journey is almost done.
Through the heat of many summers,Through many a springtime rain,Through long autumns and weary winters,I have hoped to meet him,in vain.
I know that he will not fail me,So I count every hour chime,Every throb of my own heart's beating,That tells of the flight of Time.
On the day of my birth he plighted His kingly word to me:-I have seen him in dreams so often,That I know what his smile must be.
I have toiled through the sunny woodland,Through fields that basked in the light;And through the lone paths in the forest I crept in the dead of night.
I will not fear at his coming,Although I must meet him alone;He will look in my eyes so gently,And take my hand in his own.
Like a dream all my toil will vanish,When I lay my head on his breast-But the journey is very weary,And he only can give me rest!
