Alone, yet unafraid;
He cut the path, who beckons thee,
On then, and undismayed.
The eyes that are a flame
Are watching thee, what then are men?
What matter praise, or blame?
Look not behind thee now,
When just ahead lies His “Well done,”
And crowns await thy brow.
Blind, deaf and sometimes dumb
Along the blood-marked, uphill way,
Hard after Christ, press on!