R. H. Cornelius

AS I journey through the land singing as I go,

Pointing souls to Calvary—to the crimson flow,

Many arrows pierce my soul from without, within;

But my Lord leads me on, through Him I must win.

O I want to see Him, look upon His face,

There to sing forever of His saving grace;

On the streets of Glory let me lift my voice;

Cares all past,

Home at last,

Ever to rejoice.


When in service to my Lord dark may be the night,

But I’ll cling more close to Him, He will give me light;

Satan’s snares may vex my soul, turn my thoughts aside;

But my Lord goes ahead, leads whate’er betide.


When in valleys low I look toward the mountain height,

And behold my Savior there, leading in the fight,

With a tender hand outstretched toward the valley low,

Guiding me, I can see, as I onward go.


When before me billows rise from the mighty deep,

Then my Lord directs my bark; He doth safely keep.

And He leads me gently on through this world below;

He’s a real Friend to me, O I love Him so.


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