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.

2 This happiness in part is mine,

Already saved from low design,

From every creature-love;

Blest with the scorn of finite good,

My soul is lightened of its load,

And seeks the things above.

3 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.

4 I come, thy servant, Lord, replies;

I come to meet thee in the skies,

And claim my heavenly rest!

Soon will the pilgrim’s journey end;

Then, O my Saviour, Brother, Friend,

Receive me to thy breast!