(Tune: "Nearer, My God, to Thee")

Nearer, my Saints, to me,
Nearer to me,
Dost thou in verity,
Desire to be?

Hailst thou, with joy, the cross;
Pain, grief, or worldly loss,
If they but purge thy dross
And lead to me.

Tough be my pilgrimage
Dreary and lone,
And here thy heritage
To joy unknown;

Content by these t'ascend,
Wilt thou to me commend
Thy course, and to the end
Trust me alone.

Wilt thou, to nearer be,
Pleasures forego?
And give they store to relieve
Another woe?

Spend not for laughter brief
What may thy neighbors' grief
Assuage, and sweet relief
In gladness sow.

Daily I speak, but few
My voice have learned.
I stand within thy view,
yet undiscerned.

Each human tear and plea
That asks relief from thee,
Invites thee near to me,
As thou hast yearned.

Pillows of down or stone
Lead not to me;
Nor deeds, nor gifts alone,
But charity.

Whate'er, where'er thou art,
Wealth, want, or woe, thy part,
If love but rule thy heart,
Thou'rt near to me.

No station, rank, or gift,
More than is thine,
Need'st thou, thy life to lift
Nearer to mine.

From every state and sphere
Ascending steps appear;
To sight by love made clear,
Steps all divine.

Each, by the store he hath,
Time, wealth, or skill;—
Rugged, or smooth his path,
On plane, or hill—

May, in his service, be
Close, always close, to me,
And my companion be,
Eternally.

—Saints' Herald, April 23, 1913.