Text: | Leaving the World |
1 Farewell vain World, I must be gone,
I have no Home or Stay in thee;
I'd take my Staff, and travel on,
Till I a better World can see.
2 Why art thou loth, my Heart, O why,
Dost thou recoil within my Breast?
Grieve not, but say, Farewell, and fly
Unto the Ark, my Dove, there's rest.
3 I come, my Lord, a Pilgrim's pace,
Weary and weak, I slowly move;
Longing, but yet can't reach the Place,
The gladsome Place of Rest above.
4 I come, my Lord, the Floods here rise;
These troubled Seas foam nought but Mire,
My Dove back to my Bosom flies;
Farewell poor World, Heav'n's my desire.
5 Stay, stay, said Earth, whither fond one?
Here's a fair World, what would'st thou have
Fair World, O no! thy Beauty's gone,
A heav'nly Canaan, Lord, I crave.
6 Thus th' ancient Travellers, thus they,
Weary of Earth, sigh'd after thee,
They're gone before, I must not stay
Till I both thee and them may see.
7 Put on, my Soul, put on with speed,
Though th' Way be long, the End is sweet;
Once more, poor World, farewell, indeed,
In leaving thee, my Lord I meet.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Farewell vain World, I must be gone |
Title: | Leaving the World |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1774 |