In my mind's eye it reveals itself there
Flower strewn pathways and sweet baby's breath
A place conducive for the poor pilgrim's rest
Here, in this garden, to lay down one's weary head
Here, echoes of sweet whispers float down from peaceful air
Here, one would lie, the dear pilgrim he
And awake no more to earth's journey complete
Be not deceived dear brother of mine
Tis not sweet beulah bestowed from above
But satan's sly gimmicks to hinder thy trying path
Be not deceived my friend for rest will come
But 'tis not now the Lord would give
Trust in His own good time
Before sweet sabbath arrives,
This path of the pilgrim must be trod
Not only begun but endured till the last
There is a cross to carry and souls to be won
I know thou art weary, but traveller!
Rest has not yet begun
Thou hast not yet completed the task the Master gave
Sorrowful souls and wounded spirits
These the Master would use you to aid
He promised them healing and binding of wounds
Mending of the broken, restoring of faith
You, my friend, an instrument in His hand
To carry out a part in the Creator's plan
There's much to be done
To spend and be spent
To seek the lost ones
To strengthen the weak
To build up the young
All these the Master charged thee to do
So now, awake out of the deathful sleep
From the paths of ease,
thy Saviour's footsteps seek
Return to the path so narrow and straight
Though sharp and rugged stones do pierce
Thy tired, wornout feet
For in the path so narrow
You will see a pathway through
The light of heaven gleams beyond
The Master's smiling face
What else is needed save from this
Jehovah's abounding grace?
Ofttimes the way cannot be seen
For dark and dim the way
The Master gives the small oil lamp
Which shows a little bit ahead
'Tis but a lamp, it glimmers softly
Not an electric torch
For 'tis a journey of faith and not sight
For only darkness and circumstances unknown
Will we learn that He, as a Father
Still holds our hand, to teach us to trust
To guide us onward in the rugged pilgrim's path.