"We've no abiding city here;"

"We've no abiding city here;"
This may distress the worldling's mind;
But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

"We've no abiding city here;"
Sad truth, were this to be our home;
But let the thought our spirits cheer,
"We seek a city yet to come."

"We've no abiding city here;"
Then let us live as pilgrims do;
Let not the world our rest appear,
But let us haste from all below.

"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.

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.