First Line: I'M a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger,

I'M a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger,
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night ;
Do not detain me, for I am going
To where the streamlets are ever flowing.

I'm a pil - grim, . . and I'm a stran - ger ; . .
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night : . . .
I'M a pil - grim, . . and I'm a stran - - ger ! . .
1 can tarry, I can tarry but a night. . . .

2 Of that city, to which I journey,
My Redeemer, my Redeemer is the light;
There is no sorrow, nor any sighing,
Nor any tears there, nor any dying.

3 There the sunbeams are ever shining ;
Oh, my longing heart, my longing
heart is there ;
Here in this country, so dark and dreary,
1 long have wandered forlorn and weary.