We've no abiding city here:

This may distress the worldling's mind,

But should not cost the saint a tear,

Who hopes a better rest to find,

We've no abiding city here;

We seek a city out of sight.

Zion its name; the Lord is there;

It shines with everlasting light.

Hush, my soul, nor dare repine;

The time my God appoints is best;

While here to do his will be mine,

And his to fix my time of rest.