THE TRAVELLING PILGRIM.
Reading edition
I have no friends, no helper nigh, But He who heard the raven’s cry; My father’s house I’ve bid adieu, And on my journey I pursue. My sister wonders where I am, But I shall not return again; My sisters, brothers, think it strange That I should leave my nearest friends. But my kind friends I now must leave, And on my journey I proceed, To attend an appointment I have made, To find a place to lay my head. And if poor sinners did but know How much for them I undergo, They would not treat me with contempt, Nor curse me when I say “repent.” But O! the trials of my heart, Through rain, through snow, I have to go, And when I’m called to leave this flesh, I trust with Jesus Christ to rest.