Dark were the paths our Master trod,

Yet never failed his trust in God;

Cruel and fierce the wrongs he bore,

Yet he but felt for man the more.

Unto the cross in faith he went,

His Father’s willing instrument;

Upon the cross his prayer arose

In pity for his ruthless foes.

O, may we all his kindred be,

By holy love and sympathy;

Still loving man through every ill,

And trusting in our Father’s will!