Rough lies the hill country before me,
The mountains behind me are dark.
Tell me about the Master!
Of the wrong he freely forgave:
Of his love and tender compassion,
Of his love that is mighty to save;
For my heart is aweary, aweary
Of the woes and temptations of life,
Of the error that stalks in the noonday,
Of falsehood and malice and strife.