April 27, 2018 (Friday)
Author: Mary Bridges Canedy Slade, 1826-1882 Born: January 18, 1826, Fall River, Massachusetts. Died: April 15, 1882, Fall River, Massachusetts. Buried: Somerset, Massachusetts. A minister’s wife and teacher, Slade was assistant editor of The New England Journal of Education. Lyrics– Beautiful Christmas Beyond This Land of Parting Footprints of Jesus Gathering Home Hark, the Gentle Voice Kingdom Is Coming, The Loved One, Farewell Once o’er Judea’s Hills by Night Over Jordan Tell It Again Ten Virgins, The There’s a Fountain Free Who at My Door Is Standing?
Footsteps of Jesus
Mary B. Slade
Asa B. Everett
1871
CHORUS:
Footsteps of Jesus,
That make the pathway glow;
We will follow the steps of Jesus
Where’er they go.
VERSES:
Sweetly, Lord, have we heard Thee calling,
Come, follow Me!
And we see where Thy footprints falling
Lead us to Thee.
Though they lead o’er the cold, dark mountains,
Seeking His sheep;
Or along by Siloam’s fountains,
Helping the weak.
If they lead through the temple holy,
Preaching the Word;
Or in homes of the poor and lowly,
Serving the Lord.
Though, dear Lord, in Thy pathway keeping,
We follow Thee;
Through the gloom of that place of weeping,
Gethsemane!
If Thy way and its sorrows bearing,
We go again,
Up the slope of the hillside, bearing
Our cross of pain.
By and by, through the shining portals,
Turning our feet,
We shall walk, with the glad immortals,
Heav’n’s golden street.
Then, at last, when on high He sees us,
Our journey done,
We will rest where the steps of Jesus
End at His throne.
Mary B. Slade
Asa B. Everett
1871
CHORUS:
Footsteps of Jesus,
That make the pathway glow;
We will follow the steps of Jesus
Where’er they go.
VERSES:
Sweetly, Lord, have we heard Thee calling,
Come, follow Me!
And we see where Thy footprints falling
Lead us to Thee.
Though they lead o’er the cold, dark mountains,
Seeking His sheep;
Or along by Siloam’s fountains,
Helping the weak.
If they lead through the temple holy,
Preaching the Word;
Or in homes of the poor and lowly,
Serving the Lord.
Though, dear Lord, in Thy pathway keeping,
We follow Thee;
Through the gloom of that place of weeping,
Gethsemane!
If Thy way and its sorrows bearing,
We go again,
Up the slope of the hillside, bearing
Our cross of pain.
By and by, through the shining portals,
Turning our feet,
We shall walk, with the glad immortals,
Heav’n’s golden street.
Then, at last, when on high He sees us,
Our journey done,
We will rest where the steps of Jesus
End at His throne.