Twentieth Sunday after Trinity

Forth to the land of promise bound,
Our desert path we tread;
God's fiery pillar for our guide,
His Captain at our head.

E'en now we faintly glimpse the hills,
And catch their distant blue;
And the bright city's gleaming spires
Rise dimly on our view.

Soon, when the desert shall be crossed,
The flood of death passed o'er,
Our pilgrim-hosts shall safely land
On Canaan's peaceful shore.

There love shall have its perfect work,
And prayer be lost in praise;
And all the servants of our God
Their endless anthem raise.