Is the way so dark, O wanderer,
Is the hillcrest wild and steep,
Far, so far, the vale beyond thee,
Where the homelights vigil keep?
Still the goal lies far before thee,
Soon will fall on thee the night;
Breast the path that takes thee onward,
Fight the storm with all thy might.
Tho' thy heart be faint and weary,
Tho' thy footsteps fain would cease,
Journey onward—past the hillcrest
Lie for thee the Plains of Peace!
Is thy path so rough, O pilgrim,
Passing on thy way through life;
Deep the sorrows that beset thee,
Great the burden, wild the strife?
Tho' the hill of life be weary,
Tho' the goal of rest be far,
Set thy whole heart to endeavor,
Turn thy soul to yon bright star.
From the toiling, from the striving
There at last shall come release;
One shall bring thee past the hillcrest,
Home unto his Plains of Peace;
One shall bring thee past the hillcrest,
Home, Home, Home unto His Plains of Peace!
—Clifton Bingham