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A poor, wayfaring man of grief is good enough for me,
Because he lives the way he gives, without pomposity,
He gives the way he grieves for us, and leaves for us, to ride,
A ticket for a train or bus, without a shifting side.

Our path and pick will do the trick, to ride the righteous wind,
For there, the laws are like the jaws, that no one can rescind,
The click and clack are for the track, the train is for the stars,
The tick and tock are for the clock, the victory is ours.

The Milky Way is child's play, for those who spin the gold,
The Master's pay is on display, for those who join the fold,
The mansion on a hill, you see, is not a home away,
But more, a joyful destiny, for living day to day.  

O dearly, dearly, has he loved, our Savior, Lord, and Light,
For he has made, the Lit Parade, to save us from the night,
Our older brother, like no other, paid the price of sin,
And when you think, about the brink, you brake for all your kin.

The kinder man, regards the plan, the pinnacle of love,
The perfect price, to take advice, from His abode above,
To walk the Halls of Glory in a reverent way to feel,
To tell the ageless story of the Lord and His appeal.

When Stephen saw the Master's awe, he glorified His name,
And testified before he died, the Biblical proclaim,
The witness of the Holy Ghost, the testimony true,
The glory of the Father and the faith in Heaven too.

The trip is worth the travel and the travel is the sky,
The sun above is full of love for those who like to fly,
The fashion of your vision is a mansion on the hill,
And all the kin who pull you in are working with a will.

If you are a disciple or the Captain of your Soul,
The early train is pulling out with room to make you whole,
The poor, wayfaring man of grief is glad to take you in,
For sin is not the sinner but the winner deep within.
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