Ye pilgrims that are wand'ring home
Ye pilgrims that are wand'ring home,
Ye foll'wers of the Lamb,
Sweeter to me than honey-comb.
Is Christ's exalted name.
Let us with undissembled love,
Like children in one band,
March to our Father's house above,
And to the promised land.
My little flock, I bid adieu,
Our parting is to-day;
O may we all to Christ prove true,
And try to watch and pray.
There is one thing that wounds my heart,
And grieves my soul full sore;
To think we must in body part,
Perhaps to meet no more.
We need not wait but few more days
Then he will call us home,
Where fear of parting ne'er will come,
In that bright world above.
Where we'll surround the throne of God,
And sing redeeming love;
And there I hope to see your face,
And join to praise the Lord.
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