Way-Worn Pilgrim

I saw a way-worn trav' ler In tatter' d garments clad, Yet struggling up the mountain, His face would make you glad. His back was laden heavy, His strength was almost gone. He shouted as he journeyed, Deliverance will come.

Then palms of victory, crowns of glory, Palms of victory we shall wear. Then palms of victory, crowns of glory, Palms of victory we shall wear.

The summer sun was shining, The sweat was on his brow, His garments worn and dusty, His step seemed very slow; But he kept pressing onward, For he was wending home, Still shouting as he journeyed, Deliverance will come.

The songsters in the arbor That stood beside the way Attracted his attention, Inviting his delay; His watchword still was Onward! Yet swifter did he run, Still shouting as he journeyed, Deliverance will come.

I saw him in the evening: The sun was bending low, He' d overtopped the mountain, And reached the vale below; He saw the golden city- His everlasting home- And shouted loud, Hosanna, Deliverance has come!

I heard the song of triumph They sang upon that shore, Saying, Jesus has redeemed us, From death forevermore; Then casting his eyes backward On the race which he had run, He shouted loud, Hosanna, Deliverance has come!