UP Thy Hill of Sorrows Thou all alone, Jesus, man's Redeemer, Climbing to a Throne: Thro' the world triumphant, Thro' the Church in pain, Which think to look upon Thee No more again. Upon my hill of sorrows I, Lord, with Thee, Cheered, upheld, yea carried If a need should be: Cheered, upheld, yea carried, Never left alone, Carried in Thy heart of hearts To a throne. |