'Tis a lonely way, said a pilgrim,
As he gazed at the path ahead;
There is no one to travel beside me
And my heart is filled with dread,
Because, should I faint or falter
Ere I win to the other side,
There is none to care in the desert
Or to know that I ever tried.
The pilgrim went his way
With girded loins and sandaled feet,
And lo, at close of day
His voice arose in accents sweet:
He whom my steps fared forth to meet
Hath been my guide and stay;
'Twas not a lonely way!
'Tis a rugged way, said a pilgrim,
As he noted the dizzy trail;
'Tis a weary climb to the summit,
And what if my strength should fail?
For the path is so rude and winding
And the cliffs are so very high!
If I chance to lose my footing
There's none who would hear my cry.
The pilgrim went his way
With trusty staff and cautious tread,
And lo, at close of day
His voice rang out, far overhead:
He who my climbing feet hath led
Hath smoothed my path today;
'Twas not a rugged way!
'Tis a thorny way, said a pilgrim,
As he thought of his garments old;
See, the briers are sharp and cruel,
And scarce can I loose their hold!
And the vines are so closely tangled
And the path is so dark and drear—
Oh, if I be lost in the forest,
There's no one to help or hear!
The pilgrim went his way
With scanty garments closely bound,
And lo, at close of day
His voice was heard, like whispered sound
Through leafy glades: This have I found:
Love led my feet today!
'Twas not a thorny way!
