4 Though foes and temptations my progress oppose,
They only make heaven more sweet at the close;
Come joy or come sorrow—the worst may befall,
One moment in heaven will make up for all.
5 The thorn and the thistle around me may grow,
I would not repose upon roses below;
I ask not my portion, I seek not my rest,
Till, seated with Jesus, I lean on his breast.
6 A scrip for the way and a staff in my hand,
I march on in haste through the enemy’s land: