Sing, ye redeemed of the Lord,

Your great deliverer sing;

Pilgrims, for Zion’s city bound,

Be joyful in your King.

See the fair way His hand hath raised,

How holy and how plain!

Nor shall the simplest travellers err,

Nor ask the trace in vain.

No ravening lion shall destroy,

Nor lurking serpent wound;

Pleasure and safety, peace and praise,

Through all the path are found.

A hand divine shall lead you on

Through all the blissful road,

Till to the sacred mount you rise,

And see your smiling God.

There, garlands of immortal joy

Shall bloom on every head;

While sorrow, sighing, and distress,

Like shadows all are fled.