Brother pilgrim, be not weary

Brother pilgrim, be not weary;Tune your harp for heaven and home,Where the heart is never dreary,And where tears shall never come:Don your armor, be not sleeping;One short hour, and 't will be past;One brief hour of toil and weeping,Then comes heaven and home at last.

Let your eyes to heaven be turning,—Darkened sun and falling stars,—See the crimson heavens burning,Earth prepared for final wars;Hear the scoffer ask with jeering,"Where's the sign that he is nigh?"—Turn your eyes with joy and fearingTo the omens in the sky.

Signs in nature oft have told usOf the saints' glad jubilee;Soon shall azure skies enfold us,And upon the jasper seaWe shall stand in robes of whiteness,Praising him upon the throne,And in heaven's eternal brightnessWe shall know as we are known.