He knows it all—the winding path,
The sky o'ercast and gray
The steepness of the mountainside,
The roughness of the way.
He knows it all—the haunting fear,
The doubtings that distress,
The wond'rings and perplexities,
And all the strain and stress.
He knows it all—each troubled thought,
Each anxious wave of care,
And every burden, every grief,
Or cross that thou dost bear
He knows it all—thy weight of woe,
Thine often tear-dimmed eye,
The stabbing pain, the slow, dull ache,
And sorrow's broken cry.
He knows it all—you are His child,
Thy wounds He takes by choice.
He gave Himself to bring you home,
So trust Him, and rejoice!
—E. Margaret Clarkson