There are so many hills to climb upward, I often am longing for rest, But He who appoints me the pathway Knows what is needed and best. I know in His word He has promised That my strength shall be as my day; And the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way.
He loves me too well to forsake me, Or give me one trial too much; All His people have been dearly purchased, And Satan can never claim such. By and by I shall see Him and praise Him, In the city of unending day; And the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way.
When the last feeble steps have been taken, And the gates of the city appear, And the beautiful songs of the angels Float out on my listening ear; When all that now seems so mysterious Will be plain and clear as the day— Yes, the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way.
Though now I am footsore and weary, I shall rest when I'm safely at home; I know I'll receive a glad welcome, For the Savior Himself has said "Come." So, when I am weary in body, And sinking in spirit I say, All the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way.
Cooling fountains are there for the thirsty, There are cordials for those who are faint: There are robes that are whiter and purer Than any that fancy can paint. Then I'll try to press hopefully onward, Thinking often through each weary day, The toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way.
Appendix.
The matter which I have here appended I thought of too much value to omit from this volume. The first article is explanatory in itself. The second is by a prisoner whom I have known for many years. The third (regarding Christ in Gethsemane) was written by a prisoner as a letter to myself. I hope the reader may profit by the reading of each page.
E. R. W.