P P I. A PILGRIM through this lonely world, The blessed Saviour passed; A mourner all His life was He, A dying Lamb at last. 2. That tender heart that felt for all, For all its life-blood gave; It found on earth no resting-place, Save only in the grave. 3. Such was our Lord-and shall we fear The Cross, with all its scorn? Or love a faithless, evil world, That wreathed His brow with thorn? This Hymn may also be sung to "Emmanuel," No. 302. |