1 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.

2 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.

3 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?

4 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?

5 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.