“We’ve no abiding city here;”

Sad truth, were this to be our home;

But let this thought our spirits cheer,

“We seek a city yet to come.”

2 “We’ve no abiding city here;”

We seek a city out of sight:

Zion its name—the Lord is there,

It shines with everlasting light.

3 O sweet abode of peace and love,

Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest!

Had I the pinions of the dove,

I’d fly to thee, and be at rest.

4 But, hush, my soul! nor dare repine;

The time my God appoints is best;

While here, to do his will be mine,

And his to fix my time of rest.