1 My feet are so weary with the march
Over the steep hillside;
O city of God! I fain would see
Thy peaceful water glide.
O city of God! I fain would see
Thy peaceful waters glide.

2 My hands are so weary toiling on
For perishable meat;
O city of God! I fain would reach
Thy glorious mercy-seat!
O city of God! I fain would reach
Thy glorious mercy-seat!

3 Have patience, poor heart, His feet were torn,
His hands were weary too;
His garments were stained and travel-worn,
His head wet with the dew.
His garments were stained and travel-worn,
His head wet with the dew.

4 So love thou the path thy Saviour trod,
And patient wait thy rest;
The city of God thou soon shalt see,
Home of the loved and blest.
The city of God thou soon shalt see,
Home of the loved and blest.