I. My feet are worn and weary with the march O'er the rough road and up the steep hill-side;

2 My garments, travel-worn and stained with dust,
Oft rent by briers and thorns that crowd my way,
Would fain be made, O Lord, my Righteousness,
Spotless and white in Heaven's unclouded ray.

3 My heart is weary of its own deep sin :

Sinning, repenting, sinning still again;
When shall my soul Thy glorious presence feel,
And find, dear Saviour, it is free from stain?

4 Patience, poor soul! the Saviour's feet were worn,
The Saviour's heart and hands were weary, too;
His garments stained and travel-worn, and old,
His vision blinded with a pitying dew.

5 Love thou the path of sorrow that He trod;
Toil on, and wait in patience for thy rest;

O City of our God, we soon shall see

Thy jasper walls, home of the loved and blest.

Mrs. Sarah Roberts Boyle (1812-1869), 1853

I. FORWARD! be our watch word, Steps and voices join'd; Seek the things before us,