How much of faith I’ve yet to learn!
The Arch is high, and progress, slow;
The Way is strait, hard headwinds blow
As I pass beneath its scaffold’d span.
What narrow lane I was called to brave!
But why complain? His love constrains —
His lessons draw from all my pains;
His patience is long, his will, to save.
What, then, must be my prayer to ascend,
But for faith to bear, and time to repent?
For haste to obey? To feel content?
Let all my will to his purpose bend.
Photo from the city’s official site.