The Way Home

 •  1 min. read  •  grade level: 2
I tread a path—a toilsome path,
A desert long and weary;
But yet my feet, as I press on,
Swell not, nor e'er grow weary.
And if you ask me why is this,
I answer, He who leads me,
My strength renews from day to day,
With heavenly Manna feeds me.
Along the thirsty desert way
A stream of water floweth -
A stream of heaven's refreshment sweet,
Which His own hand bestoweth.
While, as I journey ever on,
His power is all around me,
His strong right arm I lean upon,
His love and grace surround me.
And on my very smallest need,
His love is always waiting,
With deepest, truest tenderness
That knoweth no abating.
O blessed pathway! e'en as blest
The end that lies before me;
For heaven's light streams o'er the path,
And lures me on to glory.
'Tis thus He ever leads me on
Through path of toil and sorrow;
His love today's my happiness,
His face my bright tomorrow.