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No Abiding Here.
This may distress the worldling's mind;
2 “We've no abiding city here,”
Sad truth, were this to be our home But let the thought our spirits cheer, “ We seek a city yet to come.”
3 “We've no abiding city here,”
Then let us live as pilgrims do;
4. “We've no abiding city here,”
We seek a city out of sight;
6 O! sweet abode of peace and love,
Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest ; Had I the pinions of the dove,
I'd flee to thee and be at rest.
The time my God appoints is best ;
And his, to fix my time of rest.
Home in view.
The height of some o'erlooking hill,
He eyes his home, though distant still. 2 While he surveys the much-loved spot,
He slights the space that lies between; His past fatigues are now forgot,
Because his journey's end is seen.
3 Thus when the Christian pilgrim views
By faith, his mansion in the skies,
And wings his speed to reach the prize.
4 The thought of home his spirit cheers,
No more he grieves for troubles past; Nor any future trial fears,
So he may safe arrive at last.
5 'Tis there, he says, I am to dwell
With Jesus, in the realms of day;
And he will wipe my tears away.
6 Jesus, on thee our hope depends,
To lead us on to thine abode;
For all our toil while on the road.
I hear the voice that calls me home;
2 The race appointed I have run;
The combat's o'er, the prize is won;
3 Not in mine innocence I trust;
I bow before thee in the dust;
I look for mercy at thy throne.
Save for the friends I held so dear ;