Lyrics
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A Pilgrim through this lonely world
The blessed Saviour passed;
A mourner all His life was He,
A dying Lamb at last.
That tender heart that felt for all,
For all its life-blood gave;
It found on earth no resting-place,
Save only in the grave.
Such was our Lord, and shall we fear
The cross with all its scorn?
Or love a faithless, evil world,
That wreathed His brow with thorn?
Dead to the world with Him who died
To win our hearts, our love,
We, risen with our risen Head,
In spirit dwell above.
By faith His boundless glories there
Our wond'ring eyes behold;
The glories which eternal years
Shall never all unfold.
The blessed Saviour passed;
A mourner all His life was He,
A dying Lamb at last.
That tender heart that felt for all,
For all its life-blood gave;
It found on earth no resting-place,
Save only in the grave.
Such was our Lord, and shall we fear
The cross with all its scorn?
Or love a faithless, evil world,
That wreathed His brow with thorn?
Dead to the world with Him who died
To win our hearts, our love,
We, risen with our risen Head,
In spirit dwell above.
By faith His boundless glories there
Our wond'ring eyes behold;
The glories which eternal years
Shall never all unfold.
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