1 We may spread our couch with roses,
And sleep through the summer day;
But the soul that in sloth reposes,
Is not in the narrow way.
If we follow the chart that is given,
We need not be at a loss,
For the royal way to heaven
Is the royal way of the cross.

2 To one who is reared in splendor,
The cross is a heavy load,
And the feet that are soft and tender
Will shrink from the thorny road;
But the chains of the soul must be riven,
And wealth must be as dross,
For the royal way to heaven
Is the royal way of the cross.

3 We say we will walk tomorrow
The path we refuse today,
And still with our lukewarm sorrow
We shrink from the narrow way.
What heeded the chosen eleven
How the fortunes of life might toss,
As they followed their Master to heaven
By the royal way of the cross?