Dark and thorny is the desert
Thru which pilgrims make their way,
But beyond this vale of sorrows
Lie the fields of endless day;
Fiends, loud howling thru the desert,
Make them tremble as they go,
And the fiery darts of Satan
Often bring their courage low.

O young soldiers, are you weary
Of the troubles on the way?
Does your strength begin to fail you,
And your vigor to decay?
Jesus, Jesus will go with you;
He will lead you to His throne,
He who dyed His garments for you
And the winepress trod alone.

He whose thunder shakes creation,
He who bids the planets roll,
He who rides upon the tempest
And whose scepter sways the whole,
Round Him are ten thousand angels,
Ready to obey command,
They are always hov'ring round you,
Till you reach the heav'nly land.

There on flow'ry hills of pleasure,
In the fields of endless rest,
Love and joy and peace shall ever
Reign in triumph in your breast.
Who can paint the scenes of glory,
Where the ransomed dwell on high?
Where the golden harps forever
Sound redemption thru the sky?

Oh! Their crowns, how bright they sparkle,
Such as monarchs never wear,
They are gone to heav'nly pastures;
Jesus is their Shepherd there.
Hail, ye happy, happy spirits!
Welcome to the blissful plain!
Glory, honor, and salvation,
Reign, sweet Shepherd, ever reign!