Father, into Thy loving hands
My feeble spirit I commit,
While wnadering in these Border-Lands,
Until Thy voice shall summon it.
Father, I would not dare to choose
A longer life, an earlier death;
I know not what my soul might lose
By shortneed or protracted breath.
These Border-Lands are calm and still,
And solemn are their silent shades;
And my heart welcomes them, until
The light of life’s long evening fades.
I heard them spoken of with dread,
As fearful and unquiet places;
Shades, where the living and the dead
Look sadly in each other’s faces.
But since Thy hand hath led me here,
And I have seen the Border-Land;
Seen the dark river flowing near,
Stood on its brink, as now I stand,
There has been nothing to alarm
My trembling soul; how could I fear
While thus encircled with Thine arm?
I never felt Thee half so near.
What should appal me in a place
That brings me hourly nearer Thee?
When I may almost see Thy face—
Surely ’tis here my soul would be.
They say the waves are dark and deep,
That faith has perished in the river;
They speak of death with fear, and weep.
Shall my soul perish? Never! never!
I know that Thou wilt never leave
The soul that trembles while it clings
To Thee: I know Thou wilt achieve
Its passage on Thine outspread wings.
And since I first was brought so near
The stream that flows to the Dead Sea,
I think that it has grown more clear
And shallow than it used to be.
I can not see the golden gate
Unfolding yet, to welcome me;
I can not yet anticipate
The joy of heaven’s jubilee;
But I will calmly watch and pray
Until I hear my Saviour’s voice
Calling my happy soul away,
To see his glory, and rejoice.
~ Unknown, taken from The Changed Cross and Other Religious Poems