We are little pilgrims,
We are strangers here;
Though this world is pleasant,
Sin is ever near.

We’ve a better country,
Where there is no sin;
Where the sound of sorrow
Never cometh in.

There are joy and singing,
There, white raiment clean;
There the blessèd Savior
Ever may be seen.

There the Lord will welcome,
With extended hand,
All His little pilgrims
To that happy land.

So shall we be ready,
When this life is o’er,
To enjoy the glories
Of that heav’nly shore.