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 let and tried;
The Holy Ghost is leading
Home to the Lamb, His bride.
With fellow-pilgrims meeting,
As through the waste we roam,
'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.
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!
Lord, since we sing as pilgrims,
Oh give us pilgrims' ways!
Low thoughts of self, befitting
Proclaimers of Thy praise;
Oh make us each more holy,
In spirit, pure and meek:
More like to heavenly citizens,
As more of heaven we speak.