While Journeying Through This Humble Val
While journeying through this humble vale,
Expos’d to ev’ry adverse gale;
If to the throne I could repair,
I should be happy, happy there.
When doubts and fears my mind perplex,
Or worldly things go wrong, and vex,
If to the throne my soul draws near,
Propitious hope removes each fear.
Lord, this it is which soothes my grief,
And to my soul yields such relief:
I cry, enraptur’d, bid me come,
And near thee find my lasting home.
How prone to seek my good below!
How much like a deceitful bow
Is my false heart; though pledg’d to thee,
When first I gave that heart away.
O never, never can I find
Such joy and transport to the mind,
As when my ardent soul descry’d
The glories of the Man who dy’d.
The robe my legal soul had wrought
With pray’rs and tears, appear’d as nought:
One view, O Saviour, of thy love,
Forever fix’d my hopes above.
There let them firm forever rest,
With still increasing radiance blest;
Till death dissolves this mortal band,
And I arrive in Canaan’s land.