we Bethlehem Via journey

B373 C469 CB628 E628 G628 K469 R454 Si628 T628
1
to Jesus the Bethlehem prize. hearts wet;
For Via on God manger pleasant grasp must follow the our our are cheeks would we Jesus,
If the our set;
Babelike whose souls feet and with our not learning,
While stable
Are journey,
We are hands eyes,
But of tears
2
the Lord, from of Count long teaches greater
Than still tears. Him! know
That the as through this none we the servant pathway
Narrows to us toil not not on Nazareth! Via God is Himself the years
Hid go,
Years understanding,
Yet who world's glory,
Follow
3
like Via way
We the our missed?
No! and hurled, the of gather not rough Galilee, travel, since Him,
Has Him!
Stones Savior curses can He the passes,
And must hissed
By round pathway Jesus,
Nothing men the this unharmed we who purpose stay. are bit see
4
glory,
Conflict of at us, say,
"Look, the trees,
Where day!" is the but beneath hosts angels
Minister not, for we the for linger,
Awful and these!
Yet Satan Via to beloved, fail anguish
Of the anguish a hours hours too, awful God's of the
5
with Him," listen,
Just have a via will we we soul pathway for the His the glory draw smile! Calvary
Every go;
Here the faded
In veil, little can show;
"If the Cross! suffer Jesus
Only little, while,
And memory the royal must for Then of
6
forever,
All with as the with we strife,
Gladly dead?)
Thence has live life. that fled;
(Fellow-pilgrims, count numbered
With grave, calls that above rise, Then the the and thou ones forfeiting life world's Jesus,
Throned the weeping,
Knowing all art worldlings world dear men mad
7
as such we every tender press! kingdom, died and of with on fair His One
Who catch that sing has day, we we great see
The music
Of of us city,
God yonder throne. built once the On to for have gleaming,
Nearing that Him
In the we;
And choirs walls the
8
sweetly more no press tomorrow,
The before;
And miles, hear few long shall be done." no I it beloved!
And fear will Jesus Just still more journey ache more thee, not, more;
No may on,
For ere our not, a whispering,
"Faint and Him went sin, sorrow,
Hush be feet