As oft, with worn and wea­ry feet,
We tread earth’s rug­ged val­ley o’er,
The thought, how com­fort­ing and sweet:
Christ trod this ve­ry path be­fore!
Our wants and weak­ness­es He knows,
From life’s first dawn­ing to its close.

Does sick­ness, fee­ble­ness or pain
Or sor­row in our path ap­pear?
The re­col­lect­ion will re­main,
More deep­ly did He su­ffer here:
His life, how tru­ly sad and brief,
Filled up with suf­fer­ing and with grief.

If Sa­tan tempt our hearts to stray
And whis­per ev­il things with­in,
So did he, in the de­sert way,
Assail our Lord with thoughts of sin,
When worn and in a fee­ble hour
The tempt­er came with all his pow­er.

Just such as I, this earth He trod,
With ev­ery human ill but sin;
And though in­deed the ve­ry God,
As I am now so He has been.
My God, my Sav­ior, look on me,
With pi­ty, love and sym­pa­thy.