Choosing the Hill Country

For conquered fields I do not ask

From toil and tears I would not flee;

Nor do I seek the ea­sy task

The hil­ly land my choice would be.

The foe is there

and lo

his sword

Is drawn

the land he will not yield;

But God is faith­ful and His Word

Shall be my fort­ress and my shield.

Give me the field of la­bor

Let me work till set of sun

That when the Mas­ter com­eth

He may say

Well done!

I do not ask that He will give

The milk and ho­ney of the land;

I do not ask that I may live

In gild­ed home or pal­ace grand.

The threat­en­ing storm I do not fear

The thor­ny path I would not shun

But on­ly plead that He might hear

My pray­er for strength the race to run.

If dis­ap­point­ment be my lot

And scorn­ful foes dis­tress my life

I trust in Him

He fails me not

But grants me peace in midst of strife.

Thus shall my days glide swift­ly on

Till in this world I cease to roam

Till sights and sounds of time are gone

And I have reached my end­less home.