O Marvel ever Jweet, and ever new !

To rije up morn by morn,

To wander forth, a Flock forlorn and few,

T oil-Jlained and travel-worn ;

To flnd thc Wealth of Heaven on this barc earth,
And Canaan’s plcnty ’mid thc dcjert’s dcarth.
What though the wondrous Thing Jhould mclt
away

Upon thc Jcorching wajte —

Havc yc not Jtored a BleJJing for to-day
Whoje joy yc Jlill can tajlc ?

All purcjl Plcajurcs that your Souls can nccd
Gathcrcd in one — ’tis Angels’ Food indecd.
God’s Mcajurc is — Enough : cnough of toil,
Enough of rcjl and calm,

Enough of this world’s care and fret and Jbil,
Enough of His world^ Balm :

E J cn of Himjclf cnough, in joy and woc,

Till Him in all His Fulnejs yc Jhall know.
* * * *

O wcary Pilgrims ! ncarly Home at lajl,

Clojc upon Jordan’s Jhore,

What arc your troublcs now that they arc pajl ?

What arc your joys in Jlore ?

Only kccp elojer yct bcncath His Hand,

Who brings you to thc borders of His Land.
