My Path

My fingers, busy with their tasks,Pursue a homely roundOf never-ending, weary work;My lagging feet seem bound.But, oh! I know a secret pathThat foot has never trod,Where I may take my troubled thoughtsAnd walk and talk with God.

As Moses talked, I talk with Him;His thoughts, forever true,Dispel the dream, and I beholdThe man of perfect hue.O Father, Mind, Thou art my Life,And I abide in Thee,Though bound my feet, my thoughts may takeThe way to liberty.

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