Who will rise and bid me come
To the glory of His presence,
To the gladness of His home,
They are watch . . . ing at the portal,
They are wait . . . ing at the door ;
Waiting on ly for my coming,
All the loved . . . ones gone before.
2 Many a weary path I've travelled
In the darkest storm and strife,
Bearing many a heavy burden,
Often struggling for my life.
3 Many friends who travelled with me,
Reached that portal long ago ;
One by one they left me battling
With the dark and crafty foe.
4 Yes, their pilgrimage was shorter,
Aiid their triumph sooner won;
Oh, how lovingly they'll greet me
When the toils of life are done.