Can aught be­low en­gross my thoughts?
Or am I to the world con­fined?
Nay, let my pure af­fect­ions soar
To ob­jects of a nob­ler kind!

I know I’m but a pil­grim here
That seeks a bet­ter, pro­mised land:
Then may I run and ne­ver tire,
’Till that ce­les­ti­al home’s ob­tained.

Resolved to tread the sac­red way
That Je­sus wa­tered with His blood,
I bend my fixed and cheer­ful course
On that rough path my mas­ter trod.

Contemptuous of the world I live,
A daily death re­joice to die:
And, while I move and walk be­low,
My ab­sent heart mounts up on high.

O Light of life, still guide my steps,
Without Thy friend­ly aid I stray:
Lead me, my God, for I am blind,
Direct me and point out my way.

Let this vain world ap­plaud or frown,
Still may I Hea­ven’s path pur­sue:
Still may I stand un­shook, and keep
The cen­ter of my hopes in view!

What is the world’s good word to me,
If by my God from glo­ry driv’n?
Can it re­deem my soul from hell,
Or re­com­pense my loss of Heav’n?

Tho’ Sa­tan, earth, and self op­pose,
Yet, through Thy help, I’ll per­se­vere;
To Ca­naan’s hills my eyes lift up.
And choose my lot and por­tion there.

The way that leads to glo­ry lies
Through ill re­port, con­tempt and loss
Assist me to de­ny my­self,
To fol­low Thee and bear Thy cross.

Let Sa­tan ne­ver come be­tween,
Nor se­pa­rate my God and me;
But may my soul, in ev­ery storm,
Find its sure rest­ing place in Thee.