ONWARD, pilgrim, onward
To thy rest above,
Gently carried in the arms
Of Him whose name is love;
Fearing not the darkness,
Dreading not the gloom,
Knowing He will bear thee on
Safely to thy home.
Onward, pilgrim, onward,
Though the road be rough,
Jesus treads the path with thee,
Is not that enough?
Wheresoe’er thou goest,
Whatsoe’er thy lot,
Never for a single hour
Can’st thou be forgot.
Onward, though life’s burden
Seek to press thee down,
Lift thine eyes above to where
Jesus holds thy crown:
“Murmur not,” He whispers,
“Only trust My love;
They who suffer with Me here
Shall reign with Me above.”
Yes! a few more tossings
On life’s stormy sea,
And thy shattered bark shall reach
The rest prepared for thee;
In that quiet harbor,
Where no tempests come,
Where no angry billows roar,
There shall be thy home.
Onward, then, my Brother,
Through the desert drear,
’Tis but for a “little while”
Thou must sojourn here;
Soon the One who loves thee
With a changeless love,
Shall return to take thee hence
To His home above.
There in bliss reposing
On His loving breast,
Far beyond the reach of care,
Thou shalt sweetly rest.