“Let not your heart be troubled."
CHILDREN of light, arise and shine!
Your birth, your hopes, are all divine,
Your home is in the skies.
Oh then, for heavenly glory born,
Look down on all with holy scorn
That earthly spirits prize.
With Christ, with glory full in view,
Oh, what is all the world to you?
What is it all but loss?
Come on, then, cleave no more to earth,
Nor wrong your high celestial birth,
Ye pilgrims of the cross.
The cross is ours, we bear it now;
But did he not beneath it bow,
And suffer there at last?
All that we feel can Jesus tell;
His gracious soul remembers well
The sorrows of the past.
O blessed Lord, we yet shall reign,
Redeem'd from sorrow, sin, and pain,
And walk with thee in white.
We suffer now, but oh! at last
We 'll bless thee, Lord, for all the past,
And own our cross was light.