In the Morning (Crosby)

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.

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.

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.

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.