Life's Way
The road is too rough, I said,
It is uphill all the way.
No flowers, but thorns instead;
And the skies overhead are grey.
The cross is too great, I cried,
More than the back can bear;
So rough and heavy and wide.
And nobody to care.
And One stooped softly and touched my hand.
I know, I care, and I understand.
Then why do we fret and sigh?
Cross-bearers all we go.
But the road ends by and by,
in the dearest place we know.
And every step in the journey we
May take in the Lord's own company.
Anon
The road is too rough, I said,
It is uphill all the way.
No flowers, but thorns instead;
And the skies overhead are grey.
The cross is too great, I cried,
More than the back can bear;
So rough and heavy and wide.
And nobody to care.
And One stooped softly and touched my hand.
I know, I care, and I understand.
Then why do we fret and sigh?
Cross-bearers all we go.
But the road ends by and by,
in the dearest place we know.
And every step in the journey we
May take in the Lord's own company.
Anon
No comments:
Post a Comment