NOT MY WAY, LORD.
Not my way, Lord—lest it should be
A way that leadeth far from Thee;
I dare not ask, the helm to guide
On Time's rough, surging, treacherous tide.
A way that leadeth far from Thee;
I dare not ask, the helm to guide
On Time's rough, surging, treacherous tide.
Not ray way, Lord—when billows roar,
Steer Thou my bark in safety o'er
Their foaming crest, to waveless sea,
To where the heavenly mansions be.
Steer Thou my bark in safety o'er
Their foaming crest, to waveless sea,
To where the heavenly mansions be.
Not my way. Lord—tears fall like rain—
The cross is heavy, sharp the pain—
The cup is bitter, black the cloud,
That doth my path and heart enshroud.
The cross is heavy, sharp the pain—
The cup is bitter, black the cloud,
That doth my path and heart enshroud.
Not my way, Lord—the glittering gem
That decks the Victor's diadem;
Once fell perchance from human eye—
The weeper's passport to the sky.
That decks the Victor's diadem;
Once fell perchance from human eye—
The weeper's passport to the sky.
