Words: I. N. Carman
Music: W. O. Perkins
Here we are but straying pilgrims,
Here our path is often dim.
But to cheer us on our journey,
Still we sing this wayside hymn:
Here our feet are often weary
On the hills that throng our way.
Here the tempest darkly gathers
But our hearts within us say:
Here our souls are often fearful
Of the pilgrim’s lurking foe.
But the Lord is our defender
And He tells us we may know:
Yonder over the rolling river,
Where the shining mansions rise;
Soon will be our home for ever,
And the smile of the blessed Giver
Gladdens all our longing eyes.