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What thousands never knew the road!
What thousands hate it when ’tis known!
None but the chosen tribes of God,
Will seek or choose it for their own.
A thousand ways in ruin end,
One, only, leads to joys on high;
By that my willing steps ascend,
Pleased with a journey to the sky.
No more I ask, or hope to find,
Delight or happiness below;
Sorrow may well possess the mind
That feeds where thorns and thistles grow.
The joy that fades is not for me,
I seek immortal joys above;
There, glory without end, shall be
The bright reward of faith and love.
Cleave to the world ye sordid worms,
Contented lick your native dust;
But God shall fight, with all his storms,
Against the idol of your trust.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
