"COME, COME, YE SAINTS"

Lyrics by: WILLIAM CLAYTON

VERSE # 01:

Come, come, ye Saints,
No toil nor labor fear.
But, with joy,
Wend your way.
Though hard to you,
This journey may appear,
Grace shall be
As your day.
'Tis better far
For us to strive,
Our useless cares
From us to drive.
Do this and joy
Your hearts will swell.
All is well!
All is well!

VERSE # 02:

Why should we mourn
Or think our lot is hard?
'Tis not so,
All is right.
Why should we think
To earn a great reward
If we now
Shun the fight?
Gird up your loins.
Fresh courage take.
Our God will never
Us forsake.
And soon, we'll have
This tale to tell,
"All is well!
All is well!"

VERSE # 03:

We'll find the place
Which God for us prepared
Far away
In the West,
Where none shall come
To hurt or make afraid.
There, the Saints
Will be blessed.
We'll make the air
With music ring,
Shout praises to
Our God and King.
Above the rest,
These words, we'll tell,
"All is well!
All is well!"

VERSE # 04:

And, should we die
Before our journey's through,
Happy day!
All is well!
We, then are free
From toil and sorrow, too.
With the just,
We shall dwell.
But, if our lives
Are spared again
To see the Saints
Their rest obtain,
Oh, how we'll make
This chorus swell,
"All is well!
All is well!"