From the recording My Savior, My Lord, My King

Come, Come, Ye Saints was written by William W. Phelps on the plains of Iowa, upon hearing of the birth of his son back in Nauvoo, Illinois, in 1846. He was starting his journey to the west, along with all the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, led by Brigham Young, and was joyful to hear his wife and son were alive and well, taken care of by the Lord in their needs. Not all were that fortunate, but he shares the knowledge that they, too, are happy, freed from earthly sorrow and care.
In this arrangement, which Amy K. Alvord and I created on a visit to Martin's Cove, Wyoming to sing in a church meeting on that sacred ground where many lost their lives, I have tried to depict the plodding of the wagons, the endless miles, the trials along the way, with a fervent plea to God, as I add "I Need Thee Every Hour" as the third verse, to indeed be with us every hour, in joy or pain, wherever our journey takes us. I have adapted this here for solo piano (you can listen to the vocal/piano version with Amy as soloist in the albm, "In His Hands" also).  Thank you for listening!

Lyrics

Come, Come, ye saints, no toil nor labor fear, but with joy wend you way.
Though hard to you, this journey may appear, grace shall be as your day.
 
'Tis better far for us to strive; our useless cares from us to drive.
Do this and joy; your hearts will swell. 
All is well!  All is well!
 
Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?  Tis not so, all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward, if we now shun the fight.
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take; our God will never us forsake.
And soon we'll have this tale to tell. 
All is well!  All is well!
 
I need thee ev'ry hour, in joy or pain.
Come quickly and abide, or life is vain.
I need thee, oh, I need thee.
Ev'ry hour I need thee.
Oh, bless me now, my Savior.  I come to thee.
 
And should we die before our journey's through, happy day!  All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow too.  With the just we shall dwell.
But if our lives are spared again to see the saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we'll make this chorus swell.
All is well!  All is well!