letra de the stiles - kim janssen
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could not i come to thee, lord, for these
so very many hindrances
that slack my pace, yet not make me stay
who slowly goes rids, in the end his way
clear thou my paths, all these many miles
remove the bars, lift me o’re the stiles
since rough the way, help me when i call
and take me up, lord slow down my fall
fain would i rest, yet covet not death
for fear of a future full of distress
no thou know’st all, of my wishes be
to leave this life not, loving it but thee
when that i shall depart from all this
from all the things that i will miss
when death shall be, before my door
help me to leave, to die, o lord
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