Why not take the high road?
   We press the point anew
Why not know the grand life
   Which God has promised you?

Why not leave the low road
   Where dreams and visions die?
Why slither through the mud flats?
   The soul was made to fly.

The high road is a runway
   From whence the heart may soar,
Upon the wings of purpose
   Where failure is no more.

The low road is but swamp land
   Where snakes and lizards thrive,
It leads but to the tar pits
   And who shall there survive?

The low road has the white stuff
   That steals away the brain.
The low road has the dark things,
   It’s Satan’s grim terrain.

He welcomes you to darkness
   And hisses when he smiles.
He sees you as another
   To poison with his wiles.

The high road is Jehovah’s
   And He invites His own
To mount the golden stairway
   To meet Him at His throne.

To claim then there the great prize
   Bestowed in boundless love
To those who take the high road
   To dwell with Him above.

So, while you may, resign this,
   This life of grief and shame.
Salute another Captain,
   Embrace another name.

Come join us on the high road
   Where light shines all the way.
Then soon we shall behold it,
   That land of perfect day.

—Dave Breese