Going Home (Gaither)
By Bill & Gloria Gaither
Many times in my childhood when we'd
traveled so far,
By nightfall how weary I'd grow;
Father's arms would slip 'round me,
So gently he'd say,
"My child, we're going home."
Going home, I'm going home,
There's nothing to hold me here;
Well, I've caught a glimpse of that heavenly land,
Praise God, I'm going home.
Now the twilight is fading and the day soon shall end;
I get homesick the farther I roam;
But my Father has led me each step of the way,
And now we're going home.
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