I saw a way-worn traveller

I saw a way-worn traveller,
In tattered garments clad,
And struggling up the mountain,
It seemed that he was sad;
His back was laden heavy,
His strength was almost gone,
Yet he shouted as he journeyed,
“Deliverance will come!

The summer sun was shining,
The sweat was on his brow,
His garments worn and dusty,
His step seemed very slow;
But he kept pressing onward,
For he was wending home,
Still shouting as he journeyed,
*' Deliverance will come! "

The songsters in the arbour
That stood beside the way
Attracted his attention,
Inviting his delay:
His watchword being “Onward! "
He stopped his ears and ran,
Still shouting as he journeyed,
“Deliverance will come! '*

I saw him in the evening;
The sun was bending low;
He'd overtopped the mountain,
And reached the vale below:
He saw the Golden City —
His everlasting home, —
And shouted loud, “Hosanna!
Deliverance will come! "

While gazing on that City,
Just o'er the narrow flood,
A band of holy angels
Came from the throne of God;
They bore him on their pinions
Safe o'er the dashing foam,
And joined him in his triumph:
Deliverance had come!

I heard the song of triumph
They sang upon that shore,
Saying, “Jesus has redeemed us
To suffer nevermore! "
Then, casting his eyes backward
On the race which he had run,
He shouted loud, “Hosanna!
Deliverance has come! "