| I saw the wayward traveler, in garments tattered clad
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| And traveling up the Mountain, it seemed that he was sad
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| His back was laden heavy, his strength was almost gone
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| But he shouted as he journeyed, deliver ance will come
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| Chorus: Then palms of victory, crowns of glory
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| Palms of victory I shall wear
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| The summer sun was shining, the sweat was on his brow
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| His garments worn and dusty, his step seemed very slow
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| But he kept pressing onward, for he was wending home
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| Still shouting as he journeyed, deliverance will come
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| The songsters in the arbor, that stood beside the way
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| Attracted his attention, invited his delay
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| His watchword being Onwards, he stopped his ears and ran
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| And shouted as he journeyed, deliverance will come
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| I saw him in the evening, the sun was getting low
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| He had overtopped the mounting, and reached the vale below
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| He saw the golden city, his everlasting home
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| And shouted hosanna, deliverance will come
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| While gazing on the city, just o’er the narrow flood
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| A band of holy angels came from the throne of God
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| They bore him on their pinions safe o’er the dashing foam
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| And joined him in his triumph, Deliverance has come |