Poems (Kimball)/The Way of Thorns

by Harriet McEwen Kimball

THE WAY OF THORNS.

THERE is but one true way;
 No other choice be mine;
Lord, every path must lead astray
 Save only Thine.

A straight and narrow road
 Hedged in with thorns indeed,
And every thorn most like a goad
 To bid me heed.

They wound my human pride,
 They rend my selfishness,
And when I seek to turn aside,
 How sharp they press!

On every hand I hear
 Alluring tongues of time,
And oft they win my outward ear
 Like silver chime.

They call: "That way forsake;
 A needless strife is thine!
A thousand paths our feet may take
 And find divine."

But have ye seen the end?
 I trembling answer back:
He knoweth all, my Lord and Friend,
 Who points this track.

Here His Apostles trod;
 Here martyrs won their crown;
Here every saint for love of God
 The world laid down.

His own most blessed feet
 This narrow pathway wore,
And pangs no anguish can repeat
 For us He bore.

All sorrow, shame, and scorn,
 Death, very death He knew;
From every thorn a sharper thorn
 His pity drew.

A way of strife indeed,
 But every step I go
That pity to repentance leads
 And keeps me low.

Because the way is His,
 And victory is sure,
And faith is more than present bliss,
 I can endure.