"Behold a pilgrim journeying on,
Through the maze of earth;
His staff his prop to lean upon,-
Unknown his place of birth;
Ask whence the smiles you see him wear:-
"The secret of the Lord" is there!

Behold the traveler on his way,
Eyeing each scene around;
Deaf to each voice that bids him stay,-
East speeding o'er the ground;
Ask what his errand is-and where:-
"The secret of the Lord" is there!

View him beset by beasts of prey,-
Aloof from human aid;
See, at his feet they prostrate lay!-
How was the conquest made?
And why no look of fright or care?
"The secret of the Lord" is there!

Behold him weary, sick, and poor,
Yet pressing onward still;
Each trial patiently endure,
And gain each toilsome hill;
Bid him his source of strength declare:
"The secret of the Lord" is there!

Tell him the few he used to meet,-
Dearer than aught below,-
Have gathered up their wearied feet,
And quitted life's frail show;
Ask whence his calm and chastened air:-
"The secret of the Lord" is there!

Go, see him on the dying bed,-
Witness his gasping breath;
He talks of blond on Calvary shed,
And says, " How sweet is death!"
Bestows his blessing, mounts-oh, where
"The secret of the Lord" is there!