Life is like a mountain trail
that every man must try
To follow from the flowery dale
into the mountains high
And at the end of life's long climb
he sits him down to rest
And there looks back across his time
while the sun sets in the west.
He sees the fields, the farms and trees,
the land he thought he knew,
Amazed by how much more he sees
than when he travelled through,
For then he walked with eyes downcast
so seldom turning back,
But now his journey done at last
he surveys his winding track.
And all life's steep and slippery crags -
how small they seem from here,
The many sharp and brambly snags -
how harmless they appear.
The places where he lost his way
he now recalls with smiles,
How could he go so far astray
along such well-worn miles.
For the footpath rises sure and slow
to meet this rocky brow,
Too barren for a tree to grow
too stony for the plough.
A place so cold and so severe
that bears no vein of gold
And all man gains for climbing here
is the prospect to behold.
Fertile vales and mountains grand
the sun sets over all,
Lays its gold upon the land
like woodlands in the fall,
Wealth enough for any man
Who comes this way to roam
to sit content, his long day spent,
'Neath heaven's starry dome.