Strangers and Pilgrims
Strangers and pilgrims here below, This earth, we know, is not our place; We hasten through this vale of woe, and, restless to behold Thy face, Swift to our heavenly country move, Our everlasting home above.
We've no abiding city here, But seek a city out of sight; Thither our steady course we steer, Aspiring to the plains of light, Jerusalem, the saints' abode, Whose founder is the living God. Charles Wesley
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