O path which no eagle knoweth,

No vulture’s eye hath seen,

Where never the lion goeth,

Nor the fierce lion’s track hath been;

Not in the land of the living

That wondrous path is known,

But Death and Destruction know it,

Path trodden by One alone.

Path of the lonely sorrow,

Path of the Lamb who died,

Path from the grave to the glory—

No other path beside.

Into the golden Chamber,

Into the secret place,

Paul by that pathway entered,

Saw the beloved Face—

Heard from His lips the wonders

Not to be told again—

The mystery and the glory,

That are wordless unto men.

But of the cross and the sorrow,

The curse and the shame he told,

The path to the secret chamber

Of the cedar and the gold.

Were I with the trespass laden,

Of a thousand worlds beside,

Yet by that path I enter,

The Blood of the Lamb who died.

From the depths of the doom and darkness

Ascends that wondrous road,

Which leads the heart of the sinner

Up to the heart of God.

For from heights of the golden city

He made the glorious road,

Which leads to the heart of the sinner

Down from the heart of God;

Down from the heights of the glory,

Down from the love and the kiss,

The joy of the music and singing,

The endless, unspeakable bliss.