On, pilgrim! that hill richly circled with rays
Is Zion! Lo, there is the “city of saints!”
And the beauties, the glories, that region displays,
Inspiration’s own language imperfectly paints.
Mrs. Opie.
Pilgrim, burden’d with thy sin,
Come the way to Zion’s gate,
There, till mercy speaks within,
Knock, and weep, and watch, and wait.
Knock—he knows the sinner’s cry;