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THE PILGRIM

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Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 8, 1857

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 9, No. 10.

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THE PILGRIM.

BEGONE vain world, from me begone; Let my religious hours alone; I have no pleasure in your toys, I never found your promised joys, Your honors I'll no more pursue, A better world I have in view; Your riches are no more to me Than bubbles rising on the sea.
Oh! had I wings how would I fly, I'd soar above earth's vanity, I'd leave this world with all its cares, Which takes me often in its snares; Sometimes by faith I soar aloft, And view this world as nothing worth: But oh! again ere I'm aware, I am surrounded with its care.
Arise, my soul, be not cast down, The name of Jesus, that sweet sound, That precious name doth me revive, I shall yet praise him, I believe. Rejoice not over me, my foe, For I shall rise again, I know; Methinks I hear my Saviour say, Strength shall be equal to your day.
It is enough: why should I fear, Or doubt my dear Redeemer's care? Though I am weak and much despised, His ears are open to my cries: He is my Rock, my fortress he, My comfort in distress he'll be, My refuge and my righteousness, My safeguard through this wilderness.