Climbing

O God, come guide my stumbling steps.
So little progress do I make
along the road to holiness,
yet help me one more inch to take.

Since you have no mown down these hills,
then you must give me strength to climb.
And if no strength my body fills,
do you still ask for heights sublime?

While others scale the grandest peaks
and then descend to holy lands,
the Shepherd gathers up the weak
and carries them within his hands.

He leads the straying, shambling ewes
not with despite, but tender care.
And though they may destruction choose,
he will not leave them to despair.

So I, so often choosing death,
still hope to climb some little ways,
not by my power, not by strength,
but by my Shepherd's loving grace.

And if I never scale the heights,
yet there is one who bears me up.
I may not see those awesome sights,
but I can sip this flowing cup.