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International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · May 6, 1886

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By Julia L. Colegrove

BY JULIA L. COLEGROVE.

I WOULD not shrink from tangled ways, Though thorns may pierce my feet; I would not lay my burdens down, Till life's work is complete.

But oh, blest mansions rise so fair Before my tearful eyes, I half forget the darksome vale 'Tween me and Paradise.

I know my armor must be on; There's use for sword and shield; But home and rest are sweeter than This dusty battle field.

And I am told that earth renewed Shall be our dwelling-place; And God's own hand shall wipe away The tears from every face.

The hands now laid o'er forms of clay Shall be in mine once more; The ties that bind us each to each Be stronger than before.

The voices hushed shall sing for joy; The scattered ones shall meet, And praise for aye the Lord of life, And worship at his feet.