I walk a lone­ly pil­grim here,
O’er life’s un­ev­en way;
My ach­ing heart keeps hop­ing, for
A bright and bet­ter day;
A glo­ri­ous home, a good­ly land,
The bless­èd, hea­ven­ly rest;
And well I know that land is near,
The home of all who’re blest.

I walk alone, and oft am sad,
And fall the bri­ny tears;
My heart is grieved with tri­als sore,
And pressed with ma­ny cares.
The bet­ter land no sor­row knows—
There, hushed is ev­ery sigh;
The Sav­ior’s hand in kind­ness wipes
The tear-drop from each eye.

I walk alone, and yet am glad,
The bless­èd pro­mise’s giv­en,
To cheer the heart—the low­ly one,
Towards that pro­mised Hea­ven.
The hum­ble path my Sav­ior walked,
I scorn it not to tread;
The frowns and scoffs my Sav­ior bore
May fall up­on my head.

I stand up­on His pre­cious word,
My soul re­joic­eth free,
The glo­ri­ous light the Gos­pel gives,
Is light that shines for me.
I’ll suf­fer now, I’ll tri­umph then;
I’ll die for Je­sus here,
In that bright world I’ll live again,
A con­quer­or’s crown to wear.