The way is dark, my Father! cloud on cloud
Is gathering o'er my head; and loud
The thunders roar above me. See, I stand
Like one bewildered; Father! take my hand,
And through the gloom lead safely home
Thy child.
The way is long, my Father! and my soul
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal;
While yet I journey through this land,
Keep me from wandering. Father! take my hand,
Quickly and straight lead to heaven's gate
Thy child.
The path is rough, my Father! many a thorn
Has pierced me, and my weary feet are torn,
And bleeding, mark the way. Yet Thy command
Bids me press forward. Father! take my hand,
Then, safe and blest, lead up to rest
Thy child.
The cross is heavy, Father, Father! I have borne
So long, and still do bear it. Let my worn
And fainting spirit rise to that blessed land
Where crowns are given. Father! take my hand,
And reaching down, lead to Thy crown
Thy child.
The way is dark, my child! but leads to light:
I would not have thee always walk by sight.
My dealings, now, thou canst not understand;
I meant it so; but I will take thy hand,
And through the gloom lead safely home
My child.
The way is long, my child! but it shall be
Not one step longer than is good for thee;
And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand
Close to the gate, how I did take thy hand,
And, quick and straight, lead to heaven's gate
My child.
The path is rough, my child! but oh! how sweet
Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet,
When thou shalt reach the border of that land
To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand,
And, safe and blest, with Me shall rest
My child.
The cross is heavy, child! yet there is One
Who bore a heavier for thee: My Son,
My well-beloved; with Him bear thine, and stand
With Him, at last; and from thy Father's hand,
Thy cross laid down, receive thy crown
My child.