837 11s. I am weary.
I am weary of straying; O fain would I rest, In that far distant land of the pure and the blest; Where sin can no longer her blandishment spread, And tears and temptations for ever are fled.
2 I am weary of hoping, where hope is untrue, As fair but as fleeting, as morning’s bright dew; I long for the land whose blest promise alone Is as changeless and sure as eternity’s throne.
3 I am weary of sighing o’er sorrows of earth, O’er joy’s glowing visions, that fade at their birth, O’er pangs of the loved, which we can not assuage, O’er the blightings of youth, and the weakness of age.
4 I am weary of loving what passes away— The sweetest and dearest, alas, may not stay! I long for that land where those partings are o’er, And death and the tomb can divide hearts no more.
5 I am weary, my Saviour, of grieving thy love; O! when shall I rest in thy presence above; I am weary—but O! let me never repine, While thy word, and thy love, and thy promise are mine.
838 11s. Strangers and pilgrims. 1 Pet. 2:11.
My rest is in heaven—my home is not here; Then why should I murmur when trials appear? Be hushed, my sad spirit, the worst that may come But shortens thy journey and hastens thee home.
2 A pilgrim and stranger, I seek not my bliss, Nor lay up my treasures in regions like this; I look for a city which hands have not piled; I pant for a country by sin undefiled.
3 Afflictions may try me, but can not destroy; One vision of home turns them all into joy; And the bitterest tear that flows from my eyes, But sweetens my hope of that home in the skies.
4 Though foes and temptations my progress oppose, They only make heaven more sweet at the close; Come joy or come sorrow—the worst may befall, One moment in heaven will make up for all.
5 The thorn and the thistle around me may grow, I would not repose upon roses below; I ask not my portion, I seek not my rest, Till, seated with Jesus, I lean on his breast.
6 A scrip for the way and a staff in my hand, I march on in haste through the enemy’s land: The road may be rough, but it can not be long: So I’ll smooth it with hope, and I’ll cheer it with song.
839 11s & 10s. I shall be satisfied. Psalm 17:15.
Not here! not here! not where the sparkling waters Fade into mocking sands as we draw near; Where in the wilderness each footstep falters— “I shall be satisfied;” but, O! not here!
2 Not here—where all the dreams of bliss deceive us, Where the worn spirit never gains its goal; Where, haunted ever by the thought that grieves us, Across us floods of bitter memory roll.
3 There is a land where every pulse is thrilling With rapture earth’s sojourners may not know, Where heaven’s repose the weary heart is stilling, And peacefully life’s time-tossed currents flow.
4 Far out of sight, while yet the flesh enfolds us, Lies the fair country where our hearts abide, And of its bliss is nought more wondrous told us Than these few words—“I shall be satisfied.”
5 Satisfied! satisfied! The spirit’s yearning For sweet companionship with kindred minds— The silent love that here meets no returning— The inspiration which no language finds—
6 Shall they be satisfied? The soul’s vague longing— The aching void which nothing earthly fills? O! what desires upon my soul are thronging As I look upward to the heavenly hills.
7 Thither my weak and weary steps are tending— Saviour and Lord! with thy frail child abide! Guide me toward home, where, all my wanderings ending, I shall see thee, and “shall be satisfied.”
840 P. M. Lord, tarry not, but come.
Beyond the smiling and the weeping, I shall be soon; Beyond the waking and the sleeping, Beyond the sowing and the reaping, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet home! Lord, tarry not, but come.
2 Beyond the blooming and the fading, I shall be soon; Beyond the shining and the shading, Beyond the hoping and the dreading I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet home! Lord, tarry not, but come.
3 Beyond the rising and the setting, I shall be soon; Beyond the calming and the fretting, Beyond remembering and forgetting, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet home! Lord, tarry not, but come.
4 Beyond the parting and the meeting, I shall be soon; Beyond the farewell and the greeting, Beyond the pulse’s fever beating, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet home! Lord, tarry not, but come.
5 Beyond the frost-chain and the fever, I shall be soon; Beyond the rock-waste and the river, Beyond the ever and the never I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet home! Lord, tarry not, but come.
841 10s & 11s. O tell me no more.