Whither, pil­grims, are you go­ing,
Going each with staff in hand?
We are go­ing on a jour­ney,
Going at our king’s com­mand.
Over hills and plains and val­leys,
We are go­ing to His pal­ace,
We are go­ing to His pal­ace,
Going to the bet­ter land.

Fear ye not the way so lone­ly—
You, a lit­tle, fee­ble band?
No, for friends un­seen are near us;
Holy an­gels round us stand.
Christ, our lead­er, walks be­side us;
He will guard, and He will guide us;
He will guard, and He will guide us,
Guide us to the bet­ter land.

Tell me, pil­grims, what you hope for
In that far off, bet­ter land.
Spotless robes and crowns of gl­ory
From a Sav­ior’s lov­ing hand.
We shall drink of life’s clear ri­ver,
We shall dwell with God for­ev­er,
We shall dwell with God for­ev­er,
In that bright and bet­ter land.

Pilgrims, may we tra­vel with you
To that bright, that bet­ter land?
Come and wel­come, come and wel­come,
Welcome to our pil­grim band.
Come, O come, and do not leave us,
Christ is wait­ing to re­ceive us,
Christ is wait­ing to re­ceive us,
In that bright, that bet­ter land.