You’ll find no ease along the way,
No rest, no fame, no answers, no mountaintops,
No feast, no festival, no parade and no cheers,
Only hunger and thirst and welling of tears.
You’ll find stink on the cloths of your fellow man,
Bad breath and dirt, foul vomit and spit,
There’ll be blood and gore and hurt and pains,
Beggars crying for answers, prisoners pleading in chains.
Your family will leave, one at a time,
And your treasure will vanish for others to find,
Your clothes will be old, stained and torn; yet clean,
And a bed not always by night will be seen.
Your friends will vanish into the mist,
Chasing objects of luster, but no interest to you,
Your opinions rejected; thoughts reviled, held untrue,
And you fade away fast, no longer wanted or pursued.
After all is attempted and your strength has been rent,
Your work will seem feeble, you’ll count it misspent,
Still the hungry remain, scattered all round,
The broken, the lonely, the captives still abound.
And then as they hone the ax to an edge,
Or the faggots are piled and waiting a flame,
And your term is announced and the end is nigh,
And the last glimpse of earth weeps into your eye.
As I reach for your hand you’ll proclaim in that night,
“Lord your yoke has been easy and your burden light”.
No rest, no fame, no answers, no mountaintops,
No feast, no festival, no parade and no cheers,
Only hunger and thirst and welling of tears.
You’ll find stink on the cloths of your fellow man,
Bad breath and dirt, foul vomit and spit,
There’ll be blood and gore and hurt and pains,
Beggars crying for answers, prisoners pleading in chains.
Your family will leave, one at a time,
And your treasure will vanish for others to find,
Your clothes will be old, stained and torn; yet clean,
And a bed not always by night will be seen.
Your friends will vanish into the mist,
Chasing objects of luster, but no interest to you,
Your opinions rejected; thoughts reviled, held untrue,
And you fade away fast, no longer wanted or pursued.
After all is attempted and your strength has been rent,
Your work will seem feeble, you’ll count it misspent,
Still the hungry remain, scattered all round,
The broken, the lonely, the captives still abound.
And then as they hone the ax to an edge,
Or the faggots are piled and waiting a flame,
And your term is announced and the end is nigh,
And the last glimpse of earth weeps into your eye.
As I reach for your hand you’ll proclaim in that night,
“Lord your yoke has been easy and your burden light”.
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