107. Consolation
|
{182}
"It is I; be not afraid." |
WHEN I sink down in gloom or fear, |
Hope blighted or delay'd, |
Thy whisper, Lord, my heart shall cheer, |
"'Tis I; be not afraid!" |
Or, startled at some sudden blow,
|
If fretful thoughts I feel, |
"Fear not, it is but I!" shall flow, |
As balm my wound to heal. |
Nor will I quit Thy way, though foes |
Some onward pass defend; |
From each rough voice the watchword goes,
|
"Be not afraid! ... a friend!" {183}
|
And oh! when judgment's trumpet clear
|
Awakes me from the grave,
|
Still in its echo may I hear,
|
"'Tis Christ; He comes to save."
|
At Sea.
June 23, 1833.
|