1 Poor, weary pilgrim on your way
To yonder shining realms of love,
Tho’ dark and dreary seem the day,
A light is shining bright above.
Tho’ heavy be the cross you bear,
And oft in sorrow be cast down,
Yet, bear the cross and you shall wear
A glorious and immortal crown.
2 There is to each and ev’ry soul,
Ordained a cross in love to bear;
And lights are shining on the goal,
Where they the golden crown will wear.
Yet if they will refuse the cross,
And bear it not with willing heart,
Their portion only will be dross;
No crown to them will God impart.
3 Then gladly take the crown today,
And bear it nobly to the end,
Tho’ rough may seem the thorny way,
And mortal hands no help extend.
The heavier the cross may be,
The brighter then will seem the crown,
When you the land of glory see,
And at the Saviour’s feet bow down.