M. E. Barber
HE looked for a city and lived in a tent,
A pilgrim to glory right onward he went;
God’s promise his solace, so royal his birth,
No wonder he sought not the glories of earth.
Home! Home! Home, sweet home!
A welcome from Jesus awaits us at home.
2
He looked for a city his God should prepare,
No mansion on earth could he covet or share.
For had not God told him that royal abode
Awaited His pilgrims on ending the road.
3
He looked for a city; if sometimes he sighed
To be trudging the road, all earth’s glory denied,
The thought of that city changed sighing to song,
For the road might be rough, but it could not be long.
4
He looked for a city; his goal, Lord, we share;
And know that bright city which Thou dost prepare
Is ever our portion, since willing to be
Just pilgrims with Jesus, our roof a tent tree.
