Poem by William Cowper

Olney Hymn 61. The Narrow Way

    What thousands never knew the road!
        What thousands hate it when 'tis known! 
    None but the chosen tribes of God
        Will seek or choose it for their own.

    A thousand ways in ruin end,
        One only leads to joys on high; 
    By that my willing steps ascend,
        Pleased with a journey to the sky.

    No more I ask or hope to find
        Delight or happiness below; 
    Sorrow may well possess the mind
        That feeds where thorns and thistles grow.

    The joy that fades is not for me,
        I seek immortal joys above; 
    There glory without end shall be
        The bright reward of faith and love.

    Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms,
        Contented lick your native dust! 
    But God shall fight with all his storms,
        Against the idol of your trust. 

1. Olney Hymn 9. The Contrite Heart
2. A Comparison. Addressed to a Young Lady
3. To a Young Friend, on His Arriving at Cambridge Wet, When No Rain Had Fallen There
4. An Epitaph
5. Hope

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