Climbing the hill Difficulty
which for steepness makes me sigh,
having gone but a little way
my heart begins to cry.
Dare not look down, must look up
the summit seems so high
Lord grant to me the wings of a dove
how gladly I would fly.
Many a tear, weary and bruiséd,
oh Lord won't You show me why?
then God shows to me that other hill
my dear Jesus climbed for me to die.
which for steepness makes me sigh,
having gone but a little way
my heart begins to cry.
Dare not look down, must look up
the summit seems so high
Lord grant to me the wings of a dove
how gladly I would fly.
Many a tear, weary and bruiséd,
oh Lord won't You show me why?
then God shows to me that other hill
my dear Jesus climbed for me to die.