If we can not climb the mountain
Where the strong and daring go,
We can stand beside the Fountain
Whence the living waters flow;
If our feeble footstep lingers,
Tempted by some song of earth,
We can hear the heav’nly singers
Chanting of a Sav­ior’s birth.

If the path be dim and winding,
Should we stumble on the way?
If the mist be thick and blinding,
We can seek a heav’nly ray;
If the days be damp and chilly,
If the light be faint and low—
We are passing thro’ the valley
Where the steps are always slow.

Oh, we hear of mountain passes
Where His wayworn footsteps led;
Of Bethsaida’s dewy grasses,
Where the multitude was fed;
Every path His feet have taken,
And His loving voice says, Come;
Let His way be ne’er forsaken,
Till we reach our heav’nly home.