1 Go, suffering pilgrim of the earth,
Go, conscious of thy heavenly birth,
And, 'midst the storms that round thee rise,
Retrace thy journey to the skies.

2 What though the wild winds rage around?
Thou wilt not tremble at the sound;
What though the waters o'er thee roll?
They touch not thine immortal soul.

3 See where, arrayed on either hand,
The direful train of passions stand;
See hatred, envy, bar thy way,
And foes more subtle still than they.

4 But, robed in innocence and truth,
From all temptation guard thy youth;
And from thy vestment's sacred bound
Shake the dread fiends that cling around.

5 Go with pure heart and steadfast eyes,
Strive on till that bright morn shall rise
That gives thee to thy blest abode,
To rest forever with thy God.