Let me never think, O eternal God, that I am here to stay. Let me still remember that I am a stranger and pilgrim on the earth. For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come. Preserve me by Your grace, good Lord, from so losing myself in the joys of earth that I may have no longing left for the purer joys of heaven. Let not the happiness of this day become a snare to my too worldly heart. And if, instead of happiness, I have today suffered any disappointment or defeat, if there has been any sorrow where I hoped for joy, or sickness where I had looked for health, give me grace to accept it from Your hand as a loving reminder that this is not my home.
John Baillie, as found in "For All the Saints," Volume 3, page 323
