The Stiles

N.C. Could not I come to Thee, Lord, for these N.C. So very many hindrances N.C. That slack my pace, yet not make me stay G F#m Who slowly goes rids, in the end his way Em D Clear thou my paths, all these many miles F#m Em D Remove the bars, lift me o're the stiles A Em F#m Em Since rough the way, help me when I call D Em A And take me up Lord, slow down my fall Em D Fain would I rest, yet covet not death F#m Em D For fear of a future full of distress A Em F#m Em No thou know'st all, of my wishes be D Em A To leave this life not, loving it but Thee D G Bm D A G D A Em D G D G A D G A D When that I shall depart from all this N.C. From all the things that I will miss N.C. G When death shall be, before my door N.C. Help me to leave, to die, O Lord