The sands have been washed in the footprints Of the stranger on Galilee’s shore, And the voice that subdued the rough billows, Will be heard in Judea no more. But the path of that lone Galilean, With joy I will follow today; And the toils of the road will seem nothing, When I get to the end of the way.
There are so many hills to climb upward, I often am longing for rest, But He who appoints me my pathway Knows just what is needful and best. I know in His word He hath promised That my strength, “it shall be as my day”; And the toils of the road will seem nothing, When I get to the end of the way.
He loves me too well to forsake me, Or give me a trial too much; All His people have been dearly purchased, And Satan can never claim such. By and by I shall see Him and praise Him, In the city of unending day; And the toils of the road will seem nothing, When I get to the end of the way.
When the last, feeble step has been taken, And the gates of that city appear, And the beautiful songs of the angels Float out on my listening ear; When all that now seems so mysterious Will be bright and as clear as the day, Then the toils of the road will seem nothing, When I get to the end of the way.
