O Lord, my feet are blistered and bruised,
My old shoes are worn and used,
My soles are broken, the skin is tough,
The ground where I walk, uneven and rough.
How often have I stubbed my toe?
At times I stumble, the going is slow,
But forward on the path I press
And still walk on in trial and stress.
I carry my weight, and a brother’s load,
This thought I bear on the dusty road:
If you, my God, can wash my feet,
The way of Christ I’ll surely complete.