There’s a sweet little lane with the wild roses growing,
There’s a steep uphill road where the rough winds are blowing,
And I turn wistful eyes to the lane in its beauty,
While I shrink from the hill, with its stern call of duty.
Yet I look once again, and behold One awaits me!
One who stands on the hill—while the rose lane is empty!
And I’d rather, with Him, walk where rough winds are blowing
Than alone in the lane, with the wild roses growing.
O the presence of Jesus! worth all of earth’s roses;
O the rest of a heart that in His Heart reposes!
My eyes see the beauty, the lane calls me still;
But my heart finds its rest with the One on the hill!
Minnie Hardwick