University of Virginia Library


345

THE PRESENCE.

When the Presence draweth nearer,
Which is God,
And the voice upon me clearer
(While I dumbly darkly plod)
Comes, as o'er a thirsty shore—
Growing desolate and drearer
With the rod
Of affliction's maledictions—
Fall at last, in mercy cast
Slaking clod and barren sod,
Warm sweet billows finding pillows
And the rest of sorrow's breast;
Though I feel the fatal twining
Of a horror without ray
Round me as I faintly stand
Feeling for the expected day,
Death is but the veilèd shining
Or the shadow of His hand.
And I pray,
At the clouding of the way,
Lest I stumble on or stray
In the desert of the land;
“Keep me, guide me, hold me, hide me,
In the hollow of Thy hand.”