Poor pilgrim am I here below,
In Adam’s rags of sin must go!
E’er since I got my staff on earth,
A few steps from my place of birth,
You, infant Jesus, know full well
How oft I nearly slipped and fell.
Throughout my youth I always tried
To make my pathway fine and wide,
And felt this globe on which I fared
Was smooth and neither caught nor snared,
I often thought that honey flowed
Where soft and greenest was my road,
But it was treacherous and foul,
A quagmire that would snatch my soul,
Though I at this did take alarm,
Christ’s strait path kept me safe from harm.
And still I wander, day by day,
That path which pleases God alway,
And seek my fortune where I can,
Support myself as is God’s plan!
May I, by no sin’s path misled,
In Jesu’s footsteps daily tread,
And from misfortune’s bitter pain
My own true calling still retain,
O Jesus, let your angel host
Be always kind to me and close,
May all things go as God’s ordained
Until my passport I have gained
From here unto my heavenly home,And I no more shall have to roam!