In the good old way where the saints have gone,
And the King leads on be­fore us,
We are tra­vel­ing home to the heav’n­ly hills,
With the day­star shin­ing o’er us.

Refrain

Traveling home to the man­sions fair,
Crowns of re­joic­ing and life to wear;
O what a shout when we all get there
Safe in the glo­ry land.

In the good old way like the ran­somed throng,
Unto Zi­on now re­turn­ing,
We are tra­vel­ing home at the King’s com­mand,
And our lamps are trimmed and burn­ing.

Refrain

In the good old way with a stead­fast faith,
In the bonds of love and un­ion,
What a joy is ours, for the King we see,
And with Him we hold com­mun­ion.

Refrain

Tho’ our feet must stand on the cold, cold brink
Of the Jord­an’s stor­my river,
With the King we’ll cross to the oth­er side,
And we’ll sing His praise for­ev­er.

Refrain