Faint not, poor traveller, though the way

Be rough, like that thy Saviour trod;

Though cold and stormy lower the day,

This path of suffering leads to God.

Nay, sink not, though from every limb

Are starting drops of toil and pain;

Thou dost but share the lot of Him

With whom his followers are to reign.

Christian! thy friend, thy master, prayed,

While dread and anguish shook his frame,

Then met his sufferings undismayed;

Wilt thou not strive to do the same?

O, thinkest thou his Father’s love

Shone round him then with fainter rays

Than now, when, throned all height above,

Unceasing voices hymn his praise?

Go, sufferer, calmly meet the woes

Which God’s own mercy bids thee bear;

Then, rising as thy Saviour rose,

Go, his eternal victory share.