Hymnal: The Christian Psalmist
Compiler: Silas W Leonard and A D Fillmore
Publisher/Printer: S W Leonard
First Line: How happy is the pilgrim's lot
Topic: <no topic given>
Writer: J Wesley
Meter: four 8s and two 6s
Hymn Number: <no hymn number given>
Page Number: 069, click to see hymnal pages
HOW happy is the pilgrim's lot;
How free from every anxious thought,
From worldly hope and fear!
Confin'd to neither court nor cell,
His soul disdains on earth to dwell,
He only sojourns here.
This happiness in part is mine,
Already sav'd from low design,
From every creature love!
Bless'd with the scorn of finite good,
My soul is lighten'd of it 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 babes to hold me here:
But children more securely dear
For mine I humble claim:
Better than daughters or than sons,
Temples divine of living stones,
Inscribed with Jesus' name.
No foot of land do I posses,
No cottage in this wilderness:
A poor way-faring 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 city out of sight,
A city 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 Saviour, Brother, Friend,
Receive me to thy breast!