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

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