As mortals, we feel that this world is but dreary,
As Christians, we cannot, we would not remain;
As pilgrims, how soon we grow wayworn and weary,
O, who would retrace the long journey again?
To a land we are hast’ning where none shall be strangers,
Where the children shall meet at their Father’s own call,
To a haven of peace after troubles and dangers,
Where the Saviour prepares a kind welcome for all.
Here we are hoping, there shall we receive;
Here we are praying, but there we shall praise;
There shall we see clearly what here we believe,
There is endless reward for a few troubled days.
Here we are dying, to live there for ever,
Here we are losing, but there we shall gain;
There we shall meet again; here we must server;
There is no sickness or sorrow or pain.
That prospect is brightest when this world grows dreary,
And fairest that hope when most grievous our load;
And sweetest that word to the wayworn and weary,
“There remaineth a rest for the people of God!”
(Emily Mary Barton)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, World Poems, Death & Dying Poems, War & Peace Poems, Christianity Poems, Hope Poems, Pain Poems, Belief & Faith Poems, Prayers Poems, People Poems, Praise PoemsBased on Keywords: remaineth, retrace, wayworn, server