  We've no abiding city here: This may distress the worldling's mind, But should not cost the saint a tear, Who hopes a better rest to find. We've no abiding city here; We seek a city out of sight, Zion its name: the Lord is there: It shines with everlasting light. Hush, my soul, nor dare repine; The time my God appoints is best; While here to do his will be mine, And his to fix my time of rest. A good mother |
|
