Full Lyrics
1. Lord! what a wretched land is this,
That yields us no supply!
No cheering fruits, no wholesome trees,
Nor streams of living joy!
2. But pricking thorns through all the ground,
And mortal poisons grow,
And all the rivers that are found
With dangerous waters flow.
3. Yet the dear path to thine abode
Lies through this horrid land;
Lord! we would keep the heavenly road,
And run at thy command.
