Poetry

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Through rain,
Through snow,
Though winds may blow;
Over mountains high,
Through valleys low,
To the very end,
Round every bend,
My Master calls,
And I must go.

Though some days
Be bright as yellow,
And some others
Filled with sorrow,
Though I may not
Know tomorrow,
I’d press right on
Patched land or meadow.

Though the waves
Should rise and billow,
And I’m struck
By bow and arrow,
Stung and hurt
Down to the marrow,
My Savior leads
And I must follow.

For since His love
I’ve come to know,
My soul once dead
Is now aglow.
Life without Him
Is but a shadow,
A soul without Him,
So cold,
So hollow.

So on I’ll go.
I’ll row and burrow.
For it won’t be long
My gray brows will furrow.
Still in the distance,
Yet as clear as can be,
I’ll see my home
And in joy, I’ll wallow.

Home, at last!
No tears will flow,
No shame,
No pain,
No fear,
No sorrow.


I’ll dance and I’ll sing,
Like a lark,
Like a sparrow.
On streets of gold,
Not straight and narrow.
Forever at peace,
His chest as my pillow,
In my Savior’s embrace,
Happy and mellow.

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