Iām Satisfied
With Just A Cottage Below,
A Little Silver
And A Little Gold;
But In That City
Where The Ransomed Will Shine,
I Want A Gold One
Thatās Silver-Lined.
I Have Got A Mansion
Just Over The Hilltop,
In That Bright Land
Where Weāll Never Grow Old;
And Someday Yonder
We Will Nevermore Wander,
But Walk The Streets
That Are Purest Gold.
Though Often Tempted,
Tormented And Tested
And, Like The Prophet,
My Pillow A Stone,
And Though I Find Here
No Permanent Dwelling,
I Know Heāll Give Me
A Mansion My Own.
Donāt Think Me Poor
Or Deserted Or Lonely-
Iām Not Discouraged,
Iām Heaven-Bound;
Iām Just A Pilgrim
In Search Of A City,
I Want A Mansion,
A Harp And A Crown.