  Shall we not gladly sing the song A fainting heart to cheer? Although the path is dark and long Some saving help is near. There is no hill so hard to climb We may not reach the top; It were a needless waste of time To stop. Shall we not gladly sing the song To speed men on their way, And swell the throng, the happy throng, Swift pressing on to-day? Which would we choose, to bravely sing The while we do our best, Or to an idle fancy cling And rest? In the refrain of one sweet song Each silent voice we miss, A song to make the feeble strong, A song to breathe of bliss. The song which white robed seraphs hold All other songs above; The perfect song, the new, the old, Of Love. |
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