The Foursquare Blog

Sometimes all alone, sometimes in a crowd
The direction always solo
Sometimes with a smile, sometimes with a frown
His spirit never too low

With his cup running o'er or his soul running dry
The pitcher never failing
With his eyes in the dark or the light of the Son
Determines his clear sailing

If his hands get strong or his feet fall short
The work it keeps on coming
With a look at himself and a glance at the other
The mountains need more climbing

With the end in a day, or a month, or a year
The race he keeps on running
With footsteps quick or pace stopped short
The contest is remaining

Some days loom large
Some days are small
Some days he stands
Some days he falls

Some speed him on
Some make him late
Some fill his heart
Some just deflate

Some probe with truth
Some robe with lies
Some know they do
Some moralize

Sometimes he's weak
Sometimes he's strong
Sometimes he's right
Sometimes he's wrong

But the hope...

And the faith...

For the love...

In the love...

Keep

him

going

The hungers of your heart are met
By willing hands that you can let
Heap pleasures fair upon your plate
Before you read the menu

The happy smiles and laughter hide
The pain and anguish kept inside
You do not see the hurt you cause
To those upon the altar

The fun you take at great expense
Amounts to theft and violence
The bill is never paid up front
But on unwilling credit

See that selfish act just done?
The hurts involved touch more than one
For as you gather more and more
It leaves your neighbour wanting

But do not think I speak alone
Upon a mountain top of stone
Condemning you as sinner, when,
I've trod the path you've taken

Turn back! I cry, with shaken look
Both confidence and joy forsook
I've seen a glimpse of what this way
Repays to those who take it

It's pain, and death, and grief, and fear
And loss of all you hold so dear
E'en deeds you thought were generous
Are only disappointment

So turn around. The road, it will
Turn upward: hard, headwind, uphill!
How else do you expect to find
The path to God most holy?

And though you may be bounced about
By trav'lers on a downward route
Whatever they may take from you
Will be replaced in Heaven

Remember that these folks you pass
Consumed with trinkets made of glass
Are just like us, who often trade,
The golden for the glitter