My Days Are Gliding Swiftly By;
And I, A Pilgrim Stranger,
Would Not Detain Them As They Fly,
Those Hours Of Toil And Labor.
For, Oh! We Stand On Jordan’s Strand;
Our Friends Are Passing Over;
And, Just Before, The Shining Shore
We May Almost Discover.
We’ll Gird Our Loins, My Brethren Dear,
Our Distant Home Discerning:
Our Waiting Lord Has Left Us Word,
Let Every Lamp Be Burning.
Should Coming Days Be Cold And Dark,
We Need Not Cease Our Singing:
That Perfect Rest Naught Can Molest,
Where Golden Harps Are Ringing.
Let Sorrow’s Rudest Tempest Blow,
Each Cord On Earth To Sever:
Our King Says, “Come,” And There’s Our Home,
Forever, Oh! Forever.
My Days Are Gliding Swiftly By title, My Days Are Gliding Swiftly By title, My Days Are Gliding Swiftly By title, My Days Are Gliding Swiftly By lyrics