3 I try to be humble and meek, Leave all to my Saviour’s own will; For, He to the tempest can speak, The winds will obey and be still; But now my soul flutters and cries, And longs to be soaring away, From darkness and gloom, to the skies, The regions of bright, endless day. 4 Dear Saviour, O, let me come home, And rest on thy bosom in peace; No more from thy presence to roam— Then tempests and storms shall all cease. I’ll sing of thy wonderful ways, With all of the glorified throng— For ever and ever, thy praise, Shall be the one theme of my song. 827 8s. Having a desire to depart. Phil. 1:23. To Jesus, the crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone; O bear me, ye cherubim, up, And waft me away to his throne. My Saviour, whom absent, I love; Whom, not having seen, I adore; Whose name is exalted above All glory, dominion, and power! 2 Dissolve thou those bands that detain My soul from her portion in thee, Ah! strike off this adamant chain, And make me eternally free. When that happy era begins, When arrayed in thy glories I shine, Nor grieve any more, by my sins, The bosom on which I recline; 3 O then shall the vail be removed! And round me thy brightness be poured; I shall meet him, whom absent I loved; I shall see, whom unseen I adored. And then, never more shall the fears, The trials, temptations, and woes, Which darken this valley of tears, Intrude on my blissful repose. 828 S. M. D. A pilgrim’s song. A few more years shall roll, A few more seasons come; And we shall be with those that rest, Asleep within the tomb. Then, O my Lord, prepare My soul for that great day; O wash me in thy precious blood, And take my sins away. 2 A few more suns shall set O’er these dark hills of time; And we shall be where suns are not, A far serener clime. Then, O my Lord, prepare My soul for that blest day; O wash me in thy precious blood, And take my sins away. 3 A few more storms shall beat On this wild rocky shore; And we shall be where tempests cease, And surges swell no more. Then, O my Lord, prepare My soul for that calm day, O wash me in thy precious blood, And take my sins away. 4 A few more struggles here, A few more partings o’er, A few more toils, a few more tears, And we shall weep no more. Then, O my Lord, prepare My soul for that blest day; O wash me in thy precious blood, And take my sins away.