I'm a Pilgrim, and I'm a stranger

I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger,

I can tarry, I can tarry but a night;

Do not detain me, for I am going

To where the fountains are ever flowing:

I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger,

I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.

There the glory is ever shining;

Oh, my longing heart, my longing heart is there;

Here in this country so dark and dreary

I long have wandered, forlorn and weary:

I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger,

I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.

Of the city to which I'm going

My Redeemer, my Redeemer is the light;

There is no sorrow, nor any sighing,

Nor any sinning, nor any dying:

Of the city to which I'm going

My Redeemer, my Redeemer is the light.