Men work along anxious years in hard labor;
They look toward the hour and the day
When they can lay down their tools and worries
And begin a vacation with pay.

They think of the time of retirement
When with an income that's steady tho' small,
They can sit back, relax, and rest easy,
And let others respond to work's call.

But I know of an hour and a moment
That's greater by far than that day
That men leave their workshops and hammers
To start their vacation with pay.

For if God should call me this moment,
With joy, and by faith I could say,
I've traded my work and my worries
For an eternal vacation with pay.

For when the parson has given his sermon
With my casket and life as his text,
I'll be sailing through the clouds to glory;
My vacation with Jesus is next.

When the casket is lowered in sorrow,
Fear not, for I there will not delay.
Why, I'll be scouting the seashores of heaven
And enjoying my vacation with pay.

No blowouts, no flat tires to hinder,
I'll sing as I enter that land,
For the scenes and resorts of that city
Are fabulous, esquisite, and grand.

Work hard and save if you want to;
If you live, you may retire some day,
But I'm laying my treasures in heaven
For an eternal vacation with pay.