THE GOLD ROAD
O the Gold Road is a hard road, And it leads beyond the sea,— Some follow it through the altar gates And some to the gallows tree. And they who squander the gold they earn On kin-folk ill to please Go soon to the grave, but he toils in the grave— The miner upon his knees.
The Gold Road is a dark road— No bird by the wayside sings, No sun shines into the cañons deep, No children's laughter rings. They are slaves who delve in the stubborn rocks For the pittance their labor brings. Their bread is bitter who toil for their own, But they starve who toil for Kings.
The Gold Road is a small road,— A man must tread it alone, With none to help if he faint or fall, And none to hear his groan. The weight of gold is a weary weight When we toil for the sake of our own— But our masters are branding our hearts and souls With a Christ that is carved in stone!