1. How sweet are the tidings that greet the pilgrim’s ear,
    As he wanders an exile from home,
    For he knows that his King from the Heav’n shall appear,
    To gather all those who overcome.

                     CHORUS

    How great a calling, this great high calling,
    Eye hath not seen its treasures, ear hath not its greatness                                              
    What God hath stored for pilgrims, nor moth nor rust                                               
    There is a lasting Kingdom that shall never be marred.

2. The grave will destroy no more the pilgrim’s hope,
    As he labours for sinners to save,
    For he knows that on earth, wide the field of his scope,
    While he looks for the King Who forgave.

3. The world not his gain that robs the vision great,
    As he spends and is spent for his Lord,
    For he looks not to man that his cause vindicate,
    While he works with the saints in one accord.

4. He seeks not his own, be it comfort, selfish gain,
    For the Lord he is seeking to please,
    And his thoughts are afar, in His Kingdom to reign,
    What he sows now the Lord will increase.

5. Blessed hope of the saint anchored now within the veil,
    Gives sweet peace and a rest in his heart,
    In the trials there is hope, he will ne’er fear or fail,
    While he waits for the trumpet to blast.