We May Spread Our Couch With Roses


We may spread our couch with roses,
And sleep thro’ 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 loss,
For the only way to heaven,
Is the royal way of the cross.

Unto those who live 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 only way to heaven,
Is the royal way of the cross.

We may say we’ll walk to-morrow,
The path we refuse to-day;
And still, with our lukewarm sorrow,
We shrink from the narrow way.
What heeded the chosen eleven,
How fortune life might toss,
As they followed their Lord to heaven,
By the way of the royal cross.

Grove Songs #,