Lead us with Thy gentle sway,
As a willing child is led;
Speed us on our forward way,
As a pilgrim, Lord! is sped;
Who, with prayers and helps divine,
Seeks a consecrated shrine.
We are pilgrims, and our goal
Is that distant land whose bourn
Is the haven of the soul,
Where the mourners cease to mourn;
Where the Saviour's hand will dry
Every tear from every eye.
Lead us thither. Thou dost know
All the way; but, wanderers, we
Often miss our path below,
And stretch out our hands to Thee:
Guide us, save us, and prepare
Our appointed mansion there.