Love not the world: its smiles, its hopes May lure thee on; But cup of joy, and dream of bliss, Will soon be gone. Those dreams will fade, as mist in morn; Those hopes will die; And in that cup of seeming joy, Deep sorrows lie. Love not the world: it, with its lusts, Must pass away; Its pleasures sweet, its hopes so bright, Must all decay. Its glories, too, must have an end, Must pale and die, And all its empty bubbles burst; They’re Satan’s lie. But he who does the will of God, For aye will live, And drink the streams of heaven’s delights, Which Christ will give. He’ll weep no more on that blest shore; No marvel this, For joys well up, and fill his cup— There’s naught but bliss. Dear fellow-pilgrim in the path, Look up! Look on! There waits above, a home of love, Where Christ is gone. And pleasures bright in courts of light Will satisfy A heart at rest, supremely blest, With Jesus nigh.