1 We are little pilgrims,
We are strangers here;
Though this world is pleasant,
Sin is ever near.

2 We’ve a better country,
Where there is no sin;
Where the sound of sorrow
Never cometh in.

3 There are joy and singing,
There, white raiment clean;
There the blessèd Savior
Ever may be seen.

4 There the Lord will welcome,
With extended hand,
All His little pilgrims
To that happy land.

5 So shall we be ready,
When this life is o’er,
To enjoy the glories
Of that heav’nly shore.