The Pilgrim's Happy 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.

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.

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!