How Happy Is the Pilgrim’s Lot

How hap­py is the pil­grim’s lot!

How free from ev­ery anx­ious thought

From world­ly hope and fear!

Confined to nei­ther court nor cell

His soul dis­dains on earth to dwell

He on­ly so­journs here.

This hap­pi­ness in part is mine

Already saved from self de­sign

From ev­ery crea­ture love;

Blest with the scorn of fi­nite good

My soul is light­ened of its load

And seeks the things above.

The things eter­nal I pur­sue

A hap­pi­ness be­yond the view

Of those that base­ly pant

For things by na­ture felt and seen;

Their hon­ors

wealth

and plea­sures mean

I nei­ther have nor want.

I have no shar­er of my heart

To rob my Sav­ior of a part

And de­se­crate the whole;

Only be­trothed to Christ am I

And wait His com­ing from the sky

To wed my hap­py soul.

I have no babes to hold me here;

But child­ren more se­cure­ly dear

For mine I hum­bly claim

Better than daugh­ters or than sons

Temples di­vine of liv­ing stones

Inscribed with Je­sus’ name.

No foot of land do I pos­sess

No cot­tage in this wil­der­ness

A poor way­far­ing man

I lodge awhile in tents be­low;

Or glad­ly wan­der to and fro

Till I my Ca­naan gain.

Nothing on earth I call my own;

A strang­er

to the world un­known

I all their goods des­pise;

I tram­ple on their whole de­light

And seek a coun­try out of sight

A coun­try in the skies.

There is my house and por­tion fair

My trea­sure and my heart are there.

And my abid­ing home;

For me my eld­er breth­ren stay

And an­gels beck­on me away

And Je­sus bids me come.

I come

Thy serv­ant

Lord

re­plies

I come to meet Thee in the skies

And claim my heav­en­ly rest;

Now let the pil­grim’s jour­ney end

Now

O my Sav­ior

bro­ther

friend.

Receive me to Thy breast!