Some of my favorite poems are those that pick up on one particularly important line and then repeat it throughout, thus consistently building upon a theme. This is the case with an old poem titled “When I Get to the End of the Way.” The poet looks forward to the end of her journey through life–to the end of her way. In one collection I’ve seen it attributed to H. Cole, in another to simply B. P. C., and in another Margaret Baker Culp. Either way, I hope you find it encouraging.
My life is a wearisome journey,
I’m sick with the dust and the heat,
The rays of the sun beat upon me,
The briars are wounding my feet.
But the city to which I am journeying,
Will more than my trials repay,
All the toils of the road will seem nothing,
When I get to the end of the way.
There are so many hills to climb upward,
I often am longing for rest,
But He who appoints me my pathway,
Knows just what is needful and best.
I know in his word he has promised,
That my strength shall be as my day,
And the
