We are pil­grims look­ing home,
Sad and wea­ry oft we roam,
But we know ’twill all be well
In the morn­ing;
When our an­chor firm­ly cast,
Every stor­my wave is past,
And we ga­ther safe at last
In the morn­ing.

Refrain

When we all meet again
In the morn­ing,
On the sweet bloom­ing hills
In the morn­ing;
Nevermore to say good night
In that sun­ny re­gion bright,
When we hail the bless­èd light
Of the morn­ing.

O these ten­der brok­en ties,
How they dim our ach­ing eyes,
But like jew­els they will shine
In the morn­ing;
When our vic­tor palms we bear
And our robes im­mor­tal wear,
We shall know each oth­er there,
In the morn­ing.

Refrain

When our fet­tered souls are free,
Far be­yond the nar­row sea,
And we hear the Sav­ior’s voice
In the morn­ing;
When our gold­en sheaves we bring
To the feet of Christ our king,
What a cho­rus we shall sing
In the morn­ing.

Refrain

Thro’ our pil­grim jour­ney here,
Tho’ the night is some­times drear,
Let us watch and per­se­vere
Till the morn­ing;
Then our high­est trib­ute raise
For the love that crowns our days,
And to Je­sus give the praise
In the morn­ing.

Refrain