The Young Mans Meditation :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Young Mans Meditation

or Some few Sacred Poems upon Select Subjects, and Scriptures. By Samuel Crossman

Crossman, Samuel (1624?-1684)

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The Pilgrims Farewel to the World.

For we have here no continuing City, but we seek one to come, Heb. 13.14.

1

Farewel poor World! I must be gone,
Thou art no home, no rest for me:
I'll take my staff, and travel on,
Till I a better World may see.

2

Why art thou loth my heart! oh! why
Do'st thus recoil within my breast?
Grieve not, but say farewel, and fly
Unto the Arke, my Dove! there's rest.

3

I come, my Lord! a Pilgrims pace,
Weary, and weak, I slowly move;
Longing, but can't yet reach the place,
The gladsom place of rest above.

4

I come, my Lord! the flouds here rise,
These troubled Seas foam nought but mire:
My Dove back to my bosom Flies.
Farewel, poor World! Heav'n's my desire.

5

Stay, stay, said Earth, whither fond one?
Here's a fair World, what wouldst thou have?
Fair World? oh! no; thy beautie's gone,
An heav'nly Canaan Lord! I crave.

6

Thus th' ancient Travellers, thus they
Weary of Earth, sigh'd after thee.
They are gone before; I may not stay,
Till I both thee, and them may see.

7

Put on my Soul! put on with speed;
Though th' way be long, the end is sweet.
Once more, poor World! Farewel indeed;
In leaving thee, my Lord I meet.