He Knoweth the Way

I know not—the way is so mis­ty—

The joys or the griefs it shall bring

What clouds are o’er­hang­ing the fu­ture

What flow’rs by the road­side shall spring;

But there’s One who will jour­ney be­side me

Nor in weal nor in woe will for­sake;

And this is my so­lace and com­fort—

He know­eth the way that I take.

I stand where the two ways are meet­ing

And know not the right from the wrong;

No beck­on­ing fin­gers di­rect me

No wel­come floats to me in song;

But my guide will soon give me a to­ken

By wil­der­ness

mount­ain or lake;

Whatever the dark­ness ab­out me

He know­eth the way that I take.

And I know that the way lead­eth home­ward

To the land of the pure and the blest

To the coun­try of ev­er fair sum­mer

To the ci­ty of peace and of rest;

And there shall be heal­ing for sick­ness

And fount­ains

life’s fev­er to slake;

What mat­ters be­side? I go heav’n­ward

He know­eth the way that I take.