Follow Me by Ira Stanphill

I traveled down a lonely road and no one seemed to care,
the burden on my weary back had bowed me to despair,
I oft complained to Jesus how folks were treating me,
and then I heard Him say, so tenderly,
"My feet were also weary, upon the Calv’ry Road,
the cross became so heavy, I fell beneath the load,
be fatithful weary pilgrim the morning I can see,
just lift your cross and follow close to me."

"I work so hard for Jesus" I often boast and say,
"I’ve sacrificied a lot of things to walk the narrow way,
I gave up fame and fortune; I’m worth a lot to Thee,"
and then I hear Him gently say to me,
"I left the throne of glory and counted it but loss,
my hands nailed in anger upon a cruel cross,
but now we’ll make the journey with your hand safe in mine
so lift your cross and follow close to me."

Oh Jesus if I die upon a foreign field some day,
’T would be no more than love demands no less could I repay,
"No greater love hath mortal man than for a friend to die,"
these are the words He gently spoke to me,
"If just a cup of water I place within your hand,
then just a cup of water is all that I demand,
but if by death to living they can thy glory see,"
I’ll take my cross and follow close to Thee."