We don’t sing the original lyrics anymore, likely because they are too Europe-centric, but they’re still way cool:

Ye saints who dwell on Europe’s shore

Prepare yourselves for many more,

To leave behind your native land,

For sure God’s judgments are at hand.

For you must cross the raging main

Before the promised land you gain

And with the faithful make a start

To cross the plains with your handcart.

The lands that boast of modern light

We know are all as dark as night

Where poor men toil and want for bread,

Where peasant folks are blindly led.

These lands that boast of liberty

You ne’er again will wish to see

When you from Europe make a start

To cross the plains with your handcart.

As on the road the carts are pulled

‘Twould very much surprise the world

To see the old and feeble dame

Thus lend a hand to pull the same.

And maidens fair will dance and sing,

Young men more happy than a king,

And children will laugh and play

Their strength increasing day by day.

And long before the Valley’s gained,

We will be met upon the plain

With music sweet and friends so dear

And fresh supplies our hearts to cheer.

And then with music and with song

How cheerfully we’ll march along

And thank the day we made a start

To cross the plains in our handcart.

When you get there among the rest,

Obedient be and you’ll be blessed

And in God’s chambers be shut in

While judgments cleanse the earth from sin,

For we do know it will be so,

God’s servants spoke it long ago,

We say it is high time to start

To cross the plains with your handcart.

For some must push and some must pull

As we go marching up the hill;

So merrily on our way we go

Until we reach the Valley-o.





