9.8.11.8

Lord, here I am often traveling, Across the hardness of the way; When all the threads of life seem unraveling, How weary grow at end of day.
Here the paths are often winding, With fear of steep slopes there below; Ahead loom jagged rocks with peaks ascending, And fierce winds o’er the sea doth blow.
While the dark clouds there are gathering, O'er foaming seas on sides below; From these gloomy heights I see them lathering, The fearsome rocks in their billows.
Thou hast made my path thus stormy, That ever watching I must be; As I have found that my skies, sometimes gloomy, I here must brave the land and sea.
And when my strength does sometimes fail, Then on all sides my foes will grow; And then even my friends will upon me rail, And the old world their hatred show.
And while these outward scenes surround me, I find an inward conflict too; The dear comfort of Thy Love and Grace so free, And Glory, can no longer view;
But still I find, though strength decreasing, That daily stronger I become; And Christ’s Spirit in me, ever increasing, While to nature’s power I succumb;
And when I sink, I’m ever rising, And thus Christ’s power ever show; When through these conflicts, my spirit’s apprising Of His Love and care here below.
And though my youth within me fainting, And this old flesh so weary be; These are but the fine strokes of Thine Own painting, And the course Thou designed for me.
Still I look at professors ‘round me, And I contrast their path with mine; Their way and path they say they can plainly see, But Thy light upon mine must shine;
My daily suns are always sinking, In hope I wait for the new dawn; From dusk to dawn in darkness, my soul linking, To find what next, Thy Hand brings on.
Ev’ry valley shall be exalted, And every hill be made low; When at these obstacles my soul is halted, That seem to block my wanted flow.
But all the rough and stony places, These shall be leveled to a plain; The forbidding terrain, Thy pow’r erases, And all my way is smooth again
And all the winding and the crooked, Only Thy Own Hand can make straight; And when at an impasse, or the roads’ forked, My bewilderment, unfrustrate.
Behold, The Lord will come with power, He shall rule with His mighty arm; His reward is with Him, we long waited for, And with His work our heart’s He’ll charm.
He shall feed His flock like a shepherd, And gather the lambs with His arm; He shall carry them in His bosom homeward, There to protect them from all harm.
Ev’ry valley shall be exalted, And the high ground which doth give pain; With all the crooked places shall be straighten’d, And the rough places there made plain;
When God shall comfort all His people, And to Jerusalem will cry; Her warfare is accomplished in the Gospel, When she hears for her Christ did die.
Oh, ev’ry valley is exalted, Ev’ry hill and mount is made low; The way that was once so crooked and faulted, Is now made straight and plain below.