1 Trav'ler, whither art, thou going,
Heedless of the clouds that form?
Nought to me the wind's rough blowing,
Mine's a land without a storm.
Chorus:
And I'm going, yes, I'm going
To that land that has no storm;
And I'm going, yes, I'm going
To that land that has no storm.
2 Trav'ler, art thou here a stranger,
Not to fear the tempest's power?
I have not a thought of danger,
Tho' the sky may darkly lower. [Chorus]
3 Trav'ler, now a moment linger,
Soon the darkness will be o'er.
No! I see a beckoning finger,
Guiding to a far-off shore. [Chorus]
4 Trav'ler, yonder narrow portal
Opens to receive thy form.
Yes, but I shall be immortal
In that land without a storm. [Chorus]
Source: International Song Service: with Bright Gems from fifty authors, for Sunday-schools, gospel meetings, missionary and young people's societies, prayer-meetings, etc. #147