45 The Experience Of Zion's Pilgrims

The Experience Of Zion’s Pilgrims The way that leads to glory’s bright abode
Is rough and rugged, lined with thorns and snares;
It is a tiresome, tedious, heavy road,
And often fills the traveler with fears.

Here friends forsake, and he is left alone,
Yet not alone — for God supports his soul;
But all his earthly comforts are withdrawn,
And Satan seems to roam without control.

His faith is weak, his burdens daily grow,
He often thinks he ne’er shall reach the goal;
His bosom heaves, and heavy is the woe
That presses down his poor desponding soul.

He feels he must give up, yet perseveres;
At times he thinks that everything is wrong;
His soul is haunted by ten thousand fears,
While pacing Baca’s gloomy valley along.

"When will my God appear and set me free?
When will he come and comfort me?" he cries;
When, when shall I his great salvation see,
And on his glories feast my ravished eyes?

He onward pushes through this valley of woe,
He sighs, he groans, at times breaks out and sings;
The Sun of Righteousness, e’en while below,
Bursts forth and shines with healing in his wings.

The mere professor finds he has not strength;
Some strong temptation blows — he’s overcome —
He falls away; and it is proved at length
That only saints can reach the Heavenly home!

Oh! happy they who lean upon the Lord,
And draw supplies of strength from day to day;
Who live by faith upon his holy Word,
In them Jehovah does his power display.

They stand, the storms and tempests beat around;
They persevere, though dangers line the road;
They find their consolations more abound
As they are called to suffer for their God.

None but an arm divine could lead them on,
None but a God could keep their souls secure;
In every conquering saint, free grace has shone,
And only by free grace can we endure.

Shall we, then, fear the rod, since grace is free?
Shall we be daunted by the rugged path?
Nay, let us onward press, and we shall see
God will appear, and honor prayer and faith.

We shall arrive where endless pleasure flows
In silver streams from ’neath the throne of light;
Where life’s fair tree in unseen glory grows,
And saints are clad in robes of shining white!

What is the way compared with that blessed state
Where perfect peace and glory ever reign?
Ten thousand saints and angels for us wait,
And soon shall we their brightest joys attain.

Then shall we stand before the glorious throne,
And wave our palms in honor of his name;
Adore and bless the sacred Three In One,
Through whom alone we all our foes o’ercame.

Unfading glory shall our portion be,
Eternal honors crown each victor’s brow;
The Lamb in spotless splendor we shall see,
And all the mysteries of redemption know!

O glorious day! when we shall all employ
Our ransomed powers to celebrate his praise;
Our souls o’erflow with perfect love and joy,
While all his matchless glories, he displays!