O God, on the Lonely Road!
The thick dank mists come stealing down,
And press me on every side.
With never a voice to cheer me on,
And never a hand to guide.
I shall cry in my need for a Voice and Hand,
And the solace of love-wet eyes—
And an icy clutch will close on my heart,
When Echo, the mocker, replies.
I know my good soul will fail me not,