Sing, ye re­deem­èd of the Lord,
Your great De­liv­er­er sing:
Ye pil­grims bound for Zi­on’s height,
Be joy­ful in your King.

See, fair the way His hand hath raised
How ho­ly, and how plain!
Nor shall the simp­lest trav­el­ers err,
Nor ask the track in vain.

No rav­en­ing li­on shall de­stroy,
Nor lurk­ing ser­pent wound;
But plea­sure, safe­ty, peace and praise
On all the path are found.

A hand di­vine shall lead you on,
Along the bliss­ful road;
Till to the sac­red mount you rise,
And see your smil­ing God.

There gar­lands of im­mor­tal joy
Shall bloom on ev­ery head,
While sor­row, sigh­ing and dis­tress
Like sha­dows all are fled.

March on in your Re­deem­er’s strength
Pursue His foot­steps still;
And let the pros­pect cheer your eye,
While climb­ing up the hill.