The Pilgrim's Wants

 •  1 min. read  •  grade level: 3
 
I want that adorning divine,
Thou only, my God, canst bestow;
I want in those beautiful garments to shine,
Which distinguish Thy household below.
I want every moment to feel
That Thy Spirit resides in my heart—
That His power is present, to cleanse and to heal,
And newness of life to impart.
I want — oh! I want to attain
Some likeness, my Savior! to Thee;
That longed-for resemblance once more to regain—
Thy comeliness, put upon me!
I want to be mark’d for Thine own,
Thy seal on my forehead to wear;
To receive that “new name” on the mystic white stone,
Which none but Thyself can declare.
I want so in Thee to abide,
As to bring forth some fruit to Thy praise.
The branch which Thou prunest, though feeble and dried,
May languish, but never decays.
I want Thine own hand to unbind
Each tie to terrestrial things—
Too tenderly cherish’d, too closely entwined,
Where my heart too tenaciously clings.
I want, by my aspect serene,
My actions and words, to declare,
That my treasure is placed in a country unseen—
That my heart’s best affections are there.
I want, as a traveler, to haste
Straight onward, nor pause on my way;
Nor forethought, nor anxious contrivance, to waste
On the tent only pitch’d for a day.