1 Broad is the road that leads to death,
And thousands walk together there;
But wisdom shows a narrow path,
With here and there a traveler.

2 "Deny thyself, take up thy cross,"
Is the Redeemer's great command;
Nature must count her gold but dross,
If she would gain that heavenly land.

3 The fearful soul that tires and faints,
And walks the ways of God no more,
Can never share the bliss of saints,
But makes his own destruction sure.

4 Saviour, direct my doubtful feet,
In wisdom's narrow, happy way;
That I with all thy saints may meet,
Around thy throne, in realms of day.