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| We'll Work Till Jesus Comes |
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| O land of rest, for thee I sigh! |
| When will the moment come |
| When I shall lay my armor by |
| And dwell in peace at home? |
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| We’ll work till Jesus comes |
| We’ll work till Jesus comes |
| We’ll work till Jesus comes |
| And we’ll be gathered home. |
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| No tranquil joys on earth I know, |
| No peaceful, shelt’ring dome; |
| This world’s a wilderness of woe, |
| This world is not my home. |
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| To Jesus Christ I fled for rest; |
| He bade me cease to roam, |
| And lean for comfort on His breast |
| Till He conduct me home. |
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| I sought at once my Savior’s side; |
| No more my steps shall roam; |
| With Him I’ll brave death’s chilling tide |
| And reach my heav’nly home. |
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