1 Are we almost there? are we almost there?
Says the weary saint, as he sighs for home;
Are those the verdant trees that rear
Their stately forms 'mid heav'ns bright dome!
2 Then he talks of the flowers, the unsullied stream
That flows through the paradise of God;
And he longs to wake from life's troubled dream,
To walk those golden streets abroad.
3 He is weary and sick of this world's rude strife,
And pants for a holy, peaceful clime;
To glow with the vigor of endless life,
And be compassed no more by the bounds of time.
4 His eye is fixed on the world to come;
He walks by faith through this vale of care,
And oft inquires, as he draws near home,
With anxious heart, "Are we almost there!"
5 They bid him look at the charms of earth,
At the boasted trophies man doth rear;
To enter the giddy halls of mirth;
But ah! how vain do they all appear!
6 For he's had an earnest of those joys
Which the righteous alone can ever share;
He turns with contempt from these earthly toys,
And fervently asks, "Are we almost there?"
7 He is waiting to hear the trumpet sound,
And to meet the Saviour in the air;
The day-star dawns; soon with joyous bound
He can say indeed, "We are almost there."
Source: The Seventh-Day Adventist Hymn and Tune Book: for use in divine worship #1184