I’m Satisfied With Just A Cottage Below,
A Little Silver And A Little Gold;
But In That City Where The Ransomed Will Shine,
I Want A Gold One That’s Silver-Lined.

I’ve Got A Mansion Just Over The Hilltop,
In That Bright Land Where We’ll Never Grow Old;
And Someday Yonder We Will Never More Wander,
But Walk The Streets That Are Purest Gold.

Though’ Often Tempted, Tormented And Tested
And, Like The Prophet, My Pillow A Stone,
And Though’ I Find Here No Permanent Dwelling,
I Know He’ll Give Me A Mansion My Own.

Don’t Think Me Poor Or Deserted Or Lonely,
I’m Not Discouraged, I’m Heaven Bound;
I’m Just A Pilgrim In Search Of A City,
I Want A Mansion, A Harp And A Crown.