I saw a wayworn traveler in tattered garments clad, And struggling up the mountain, it seemed that he was sad. His back was laden heavy, his strength was almost gone, Yet he shouted as he journeyed "Deliverance will come!" Then palms of victory, crowns of glory, Palms of victory I shall wear. The songstress in the arbor, that stood beside the way, Attracted his attention, inviting his delay. His watchword being "Onward!" he stopped his ears and ran, Still shouting as he journeyed, "Deliverance will come! Then palms of victory, crowns of glory, Palms of victory I shall wear. I saw him in the evening, the sun was bending low, He'd over-topped the mountain and reached the vale below. He saw the golden city, his everlasting home, And shouted loud, "Hosanna, deliverance has come!" Then palms of victory, crowns of glory, Palms of victory I shall wear. I heard the song of triumph they sang upon that shore, Saying, "Jesus has redeemed us to suffer nevermore." Then casting his eyes back-ward on the race that he had run, He shouted loud, "Hosanna, deliverance has come!"" Then palms of victory, crowns of glory, Palms of victory I shall wear.