Love not the world, O Christian
Its vain allurements flee
Heed not its voices calling
In siren tones to thee
Upon its pomp and glitter
Look not with envious gaze
But count as dross its treasures
Its honors and its praise
Love not the world, "this present world"
'Twill prove a deadly snare
But set thy heart on things above
Lay up thy treasures there
Love not the world that passes
Like morning mist, away
Its follies and its fashions
That linger but a day
Its wells are broken cisterns
Its streams will soon run dry
Its flowers shortly wither
Its pleasures quickly die
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Love not the world, but rather
The things unseen above
Let all the soul's affections
Around that center move
Where Christ in glory dwelleth
Where some day thou shalt be
Where His own hand prepareth
A dwelling place for thee
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