1 WE'RE pilgrims in the wilderness:
Our dwelling is a camp;
Created things, though pleasant,
Now bear to us death's stamp.
But onward we are speeding,
Though often sorely tried:
The Holy Ghost is leading
Home to the Lamb, His bride.
2 With fellow-pilgrims meeting,
Who seek the rest to come,
'Tis sweet to sing together,
"We are not far from home."
And when we've learned our lesson,
Our work in suffering done,
Our ever-loving Father
Will welcome every one.
3 We look to meet our brethren,
From every distant shore;
Not one will seem a stranger,
Though never seen before;
With angel hosts attending,
In myriads through the sky:
Yet 'midst them all, Thou only,
O Lord, wilt fix the eye.
4 Lord, since we sing as pilgrims,
O give us pilgrims' ways,
Low thoughts of self, befitting
Proclaimers of Thy praise;
O make us each more holy,
In spirit pure and meek:
More like to heavenly citizens,
As more of heaven we speak.
