Now rest, ye pilgrim host, look back upon your way,
The mountains climbed, the torrents crossed,
Through many a weary day.
From this victorious height, how fair the past appears,
God's grace and glory shining bright
On all the bygone years.

How many, at His call, have parted from our throng!
They watch us from the crystal wall,
And echo back our song.
They rest, beyond complaints,
Beyond all sighs and tears:
Praise be to God for all His saints
Who wrought in bygone years.

The banners they upbore our hands still lift on high;
The Lord they followed evermore
To us is also nigh.
Arise, arise and tread the future without fears;
He leadeth still, whose hand hath led
Through all the bygone years.

When we have reached the home we seek with weary feet,
Our children's children still shall come
To keep those ranks complete;
And He, whose host is one throughout the countless spheres,
Will guide His marching servants on
Through everlasting years.