4.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.”
This thought it is which, if our love were cold,
Might lead us still, from very sympathy,
To hang our eager eyes and hearts on Thee:
That this most fearful moment must be told,
Whose memory shall never more grow old;
And that we have no strength in that dread hour
But that which emanates from this Thy power
In dying. Mortals now most proud and bold,
Who set at nought that hour, shall then most need
Thy succour, and a heart to Thee fast knit
In fellowship of suffering, used to feed
On Thee, and by austere self-rule made fit
For thoughts which ever from Thy Cross proceed,
'Neath which all penitential mourners sit.
