The Way by the cliff where walk all the men,
the Way so true keeps the cliff hidden.
Some odds yet turn to the cliff running by
– the deep dark cliff where no good lie.

The plain men pass, they walk just free.
The odds unlike, they can’t unsee
the brink of the cliff, they mourn’n despair,
can’t deny the cliff so clearly there!

For long on the cliff so their sharp eyes set,
still stand on the way, their heads forget.

The way but their home, in time their feet
find the Rock of men that lay underneath.
The rock so laid that men be won back
whose heart will now show what sight will lack.

So, that way by the cliff still walk these men
– the deep dark cliff now in sight remain.
Yet eyes gape just the way so blest.
Men walk with will, their hearts find rest.