The Homeward Journey
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From the French.
Though 'tis a desert dreary
Through which my footsteps haste,
E'en though 'tis sad and weary,
Yet Christ has trod the waste.
It leads me to the Father;
And, as I pass along,
None other but my Saviour
Can fill my soul with song.
On Him I am reclining,
I follow not in vain!
And loss brings no repining,
Since Christ Himself I gain.
Earth's lesser joys soon ending,
My steps would only stay;
But on His power depending,
From these I turn away.
His love my fetters breaking,
I press towards the goal;
Eternal songs are waking
Already in my soul.
And as the road grows rougher,
Faith only looks above;
The trials that I suffer,
But teach me, "God is love."
And though while here abiding,
My spirit oft may groan,
Yet in His presence hiding,
I cannot be alone.
His grace for all availing;
Attends me night and day;
His rod and staff unfailing,
My comfort and my stay.
Oh, grace beyond expression,
To know Him here below!
Such is their blest possession,
Who in His footsteps go.
And soon in brightest glory,
Lord, I shall see Thy face,
And sing the matchless story
Of victory through Thy grace
S. A., Jun.