We have not seen, we can­not see,
The hap­py land above,
From sin and death and suf­fer­ing free,
Where all is peace and love.

We on­ly see the path is long
By which we have to go;
We on­ly feel the foes are strong
Who seek to work us woe.

We have not seen, we can­not see
The cross our Mas­ter bore,
With all its pains, that we might be
The slaves of sin no more.

We on­ly think it hard to part
With ev­ery plea­sant sin,
And give to God a per­fect heart,
And make Him Lord with­in.

We walk by faith, and not by sight;
And, bless­èd saint, like thee,
We some­times doubt if faith tells right,
Because we can­not see.

Upon the pro­mise we would lean
Thy doubt­ing heart re­ceived;
Blessèd are they that have not seen,
And that have yet be­lieved.