XVIII.
God leads his children with a gentle hand,
Though often through a gloomy, rugged road,
But if they reach at last the promised land,
What matter if the paths their feet have trod—
Those thorny paths—be moistened with their blood?
How gloriously they end their sad career!
Their blood stain’d feet are wash’d in Jordan’s flood,
Before the throne all spotless they appear,
And hush’d is every groan, and dried is every tear.