Cry of a Pilgrim




Stuck between the worlds which careth not,

Whilst I cry and weep and world I know not.

O Thou my Beloved, my soul longeth to be Thine;

But in this world, I'm left without Thee,

The Choicest Wine.

Gold nor incense nor frankincense have I,

To leave at Thy Feet to lie.

How long my God from Thee must I be,

Until in The Happy Plains shall I meet with Thee.

O Happy Day draw nigh

For in my Saviour's Heart, let me forever lie.

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