Dark were the paths our Master trod,
Yet never failed his trust in God;
Cruel and fierce the wrongs he bore,
Yet he but felt for man the more.
Unto the cross in faith he went,
His Father’s willing instrument;
Upon the cross his prayer arose
In pity for his ruthless foes.
O, may we all his kindred be,
By holy love and sympathy;
Still loving man through every ill,
And trusting in our Father’s will!