The sands have been washed in the foot­prints
Of the Stran­ger on Ga­li­lee’s shore;
And the voice that sub­dued the rough bil­lows
Will be heard in Ju­dea no more,
But the path of that lone Ga­li­le­an,
With joy I will fol­low to­day,

Refrain

And the toils of the road will seem no­thing
When I get to the end of the way,
The toils of the road will seem no­thing
When I get to the end of the way.

There are so ma­ny hills to climb up­ward,
I oft­en am long­ing for rest;
But He who ap­points me my path­way,
Knows just what is need­ful and best.
I know in His Word He hath pro­mised
That my strength it shall be as my day;

Refrain

He loves me too well to for­sake me,
Or give me a tri­al too much;
His peo­ple have been dear­ly pur­chased,
And Sa­tan can ne­ver claim such.
By and by I shall see Him and praise Him,
In the ci­ty of un­end­ing day;

Refrain

When the last fee­ble steps have been tak­en,
And the gates of that ci­ty ap­pear,
And the beau­ti­ful songs of the an­gels
Float out on my list­en­ing ear;
When all that now seems so mys­te­ri­ous,
Will be bright and as clear as the day,

And the toils of the road will seem no­thing
When I get to the end of the way,
Then the toils of the road will seem no­thing
When I get to the end of the way.