Iíll go with You, Jesus, to Bethlehem,
Where You came to us as a babe;
Iíll look in the manger and smell the sweet hay,
And imagine the words that were said.
Iíll go with You, Jesus, to Nazareth,
Where You grew up as most any boy;
Iíll see You at play on a beautiful day
And imagine a home full of joy.
Iíll go with You, Jesus, to Jerusalem,
Where the palm branches spread in Your path
Were a carpet of praise as You passed by that way,
And You heard not a word of wrath.
But...Oh!...Must I go to Gethsemene?
Must I watch Your great sorrow there?
Must I stay with You Ďtil the morning dew
Falls silently on Your hair?
Oh, Jesus! I canít go to Calvary!
Itís my Lord and my King hanging there!
The blood dripping down - the vile, thorny crown -
Oh, Jesus! Itís too much to bear!
...I want to go to His garden tomb -
To kneel in reverence there.
My crucified King - my sweet memories -
They fill the soft scented air.
ďTis the greatest joy my tongue can employ!
The great stone is rolled away!
Not mere memories, but a risen King
Is mine forever today!
The paths that I walk and the way that I talk -
All things - He forever shares!
Oh, my pathways are bright, for He is my Light,
And will show me Heaven one day!
...Itís hard, Dear Lord, to remember the lepers -
The smell of the sick You healed;
Itís hard to remember the garden prayer
As You in obedience yield;
Itís hard to remember the old rugged cross,
Where You suffered and died for me -
Yet these basic things gave the mightiest King
Ever known on the earth today;
Because You have risen and live in my heart,
And You guide me day after day
Is the reason why I watch the sky
As I journey on my way.