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American Ballads and Folk Songs
The trail that leads down to perdition Is paved all the way with good deeds j But in the great round-up of ages, Dear boys, this won't answer your needs.
The trail to green pastures, though narrow, Leads straight to the home in the sky, To the headquarters ranch of the Father In the land of the sweet by and by.
The Inspector will stand at the gateway, Where the herd, one and all, must go by, And the round-up by the angels in judgment Must pass 'neath His all-searching eye.
No maverick or slick will be tallied In that great book of life in His home, For he knows all the brands and the earmarks That down through all ages have come.
But, along with the strays and the sleepers, The tailings must turn from the gate 5 No road brand to give them admission. But that awful sad cry: "Too late!"
But I trust in that last great round-up When the Rider shall cut the big herd, That the cowboy will be represented In the earmark and brand of the Lord.
To be shipped to that bright, mystic region, Over there in green pastures to lie, And be led by the crystal still waters To the home in the sweet by and by.