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What poor, despised company
Of travelers are those,
Who walk in yonder narrow way,
Beset by many foes?
Ah, they are of a royal line,
All children of a King,
Heirs of eternal life divine,
And lo! for joy they sing!
Why do they, then, appear so mean?
And why so much despised?
Because, of their rich robes, unseen,
The world is not apprized.
But why keep they that narrow road,
That rugged, thorny maze?
Ah, that's the way their Leader trod;
They love and keep his ways.