O happy band of pilgrims,
If onward ye will tread
With Jesus as your Fellow
To Jesus as your Head!
O happy, if ye labour
As Jesus did for men:
O happy, if ye hunger
As Jesus hunger’d then!
The Cross that Jesus carried
He carried as your due:
The Crown that Jesus weareth
He weareth it for you.
The Faith by which ye see Him,
The Hope, in which ye yearn,
The Love that through all troubles
To Him alone will turn,—
What are they, but vaunt-couriers
To lead you to His Sight?
What are they, save the effluence
Of Uncreated Light?
The trials that beset you,
The sorrows ye endure,
The manifold temptations
That Death alone can cure,—
What are they, but His jewels
Of right celestial worth?
What are they but the ladder,
Set up to Heav’n on earth?
O happy band of pilgrims,
Look upward to the skies:—
Where such a light affliction
Shall win you such a prize!
